Worth a Thousand Words
by Persephone Kore
Summary: Complete. Cowritten with Alan Sauer. 3rd in Time's Riddle. A Riddle meets a sphinx Harry meets an old friend Ron wins a chess tournament Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban and Tom almost gets a picture of his mother....
1. Slytherin and Sphinx

Disclaimer and Authors' Note: Harry Potter, the associated fictional universe, and all characters and items contained therein are intellectual property of J. K. Rowling. We are just playing and have no intention of claim or material profit. It should be noted that this story takes place in an alternate timeline diverging after the end of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; preceding stories are "Who We Are" and "Trouble Brewing," which explain why Tom Riddle is running around Hogwarts, why he's friends with Ginny, and what happened to Voldemort. Available under http://www.thedarkarts.org/authorLinks/Persephone_Kore/ and http://www.thedarkarts.org/authorLinks/Persephone_Kore_and_Alan_Sauer/ respectively or at http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=36169.

**Worth a Thousand Words  
by Alan Sauer   
and Persephone Kore  
Chapter 1**

The Heir of Slytherin walked slowly toward the room in which a monster awaited him. 

He really wished he thought it even remotely likely that Hagrid had brought any variety of snake in. Professor Snape could have sent them to Filch to be punished for spilling Laughter Potion on him -- the caretaker wasn't even permitted some of the older forms of corporal punishment. But no, it had been too much to hope that the professor wouldn't look past which of the two he liked best, so Tom was going to have even _more_ practice with Magical Creatures. 

Ginny nudged his elbow. "Could you try to look a little less doomed? I talked to him ahead of time; he hasn't picked anything that's likely to be lethal, and it'll be good practice."

"This is Hagrid," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, trying to keep the proper attitude in mind. "'Not anything likely to be lethal' doesn't seem to mean the same thing in his language."

"Which is why I asked him about it ahead of time," she retorted. "But no, before you ask, I'm not telling you anything before we get there. You probably aren't even supposed to know you're taking care of a creature, but it's not as if it's that much of a surprise."

Tom rolled his eyes. They _were_ almost there anyway, he could see Hagrid looming next to a door. He greeted them with a stern nod. "Ready for yer detentions, are yeh? Ginny, I thought I'd have yeh muck out the hippogriff stalls, they're gettin' a mite ripe. Thought I'd try Tom on Kiffy, she's bin feelin' a bit blue and could use the company."

Ginny wrinkled her nose but nodded at her own assignment, then laughed and turned to Tom. "_Mine's_ fair enough, since we did make a mess, but I'm going to envy you yours."

Thoughts racing, Tom looked wary and finally craned his neck to look up at Hagrid. "...What's a Kiffy?"

"Kiffy's a she. That's 'er name," Hagrid responded. "Thought Ginny woulda told yer. She's a sphinx. Mute, poor thing, an' awful shy because of it, but Hermione got 'er started on them rebus puzzles, and that's perked 'er up some."

"I never thought to mention it, did I?" Ginny remarked thoughtfully. "She's nice, Tom, really."

"...Don't they, um, get a bit upset if you don't answer them right?"

"Oh, you're clever -- you won't have any trouble. She hasn't had any nasty ones when I was here."

"That's enough, now -- yeh'd better get started, Ginny. Off yeh go -- yeh know where the tools are, and unlike some yeh'll actually work with 'em. I'll get Tom started here."

"Right. Well, I could be scraping cauldron bottoms again, that's something." He looked up at Hagrid. "Where is she?"

Hagrid nodded down at him as Ginny vanished out the door. "That's th' first part of your assignment -- ye'll have ter find her and coax her out. Here's treats... here's the sand-patch she's been drawing in... and here's a brush for her coat. Mind the feathers."

"Ah." Tom took the treats and brush gingerly. "Hm."

"Well, I'll be going. Got the chickens ter take care of, and I'd best make sure Ginny won't have any trouble with the hippogriffs -- not likely, as she's got more sense than ter go being disrespectful to them, but it can't hurt. Give a shout if yeh need a hand; I should be where I can hear yeh."

"I will."

"Good." The bushy eyebrows drew together as Hagrid's expression changed to a stern frown. "Now _don't_ go scarin' her!" And with that, he left Tom alone in the gamekeeper's cottage with, presumably, an extremely well-hidden sphinx.

Scare _her_?! She probably thought he was a snack! Tom looked around warily, thinking hard. Well, sphinxes _asked_ riddles quite a bit--he stifled a nervous chuckle; this one was going to be asking riddles _of_ a Riddle--but maybe they didn't get to answer them very often. He thought for a moment and then addressed random parts of the room. "Um, Kiffy? My name's Tom. Hagrid said you could use some company. I thought maybe we could play riddles, or -- Hagrid says you like rebuses, here's one." He traced a few figures on the sand patch. "I've also got food if you're hungry."

He managed not to say "Please don't kill and eat me if I guess wrong."

Nothing pounced on him. A strange, puffy-looking creature with a long beak burbled from inside a large aquarium. There was no sound or motion from anywhere else in the room. It might have been a little bit reassuring to have _some_ idea where to look....

He sat down on the floor, peered into the bag of sphinx treats, and hastily shut it again. Spiced dried mouse, it looked like. He looked around the room again. "Um, funny coincidence, my last name's Riddle. I guess Hagrid thought we'd have something in common. Ha ha." He paused. "He said you were feeling kind of down... s'pose you're kind of unusual for sphinxes. That's me as well; I'm missing fifty years of history. Even the drapes in the dorm are a slightly different color than I remember."

He thought he heard a noise that time. Unfortunately he wasn't quite sure where it had come from... but it _might_ have been the sound claws might make on the floor. That might be bad. Lions' claws were retractable; if the sphinx had hers out.... Tom found himself staring at the tablecloth. Why was there a floor-length tablecloth in the gamekeeper's cottage? Especially with Hagrid's taste in pets, it seemed as if it would be rapidly destroyed.

He lifted up one corner very slowly and carefully peeked underneath. "Um, hello?"

Despite the human face, a sphinx's eyes reflected light like a cat's. Tom was faced with two green-gold glowing spots that suddenly blinked and retreated toward the other end of the table with a hiss. Apparently Kiffy could still make _some_ noise, though he certainly hadn't been expecting that one.

"Sorry. Um. I didn't mean to startle you. I used to make forts like this when I was little. They're really good next to sunny windows, the light casts all sorts of great shadows all over the inside."

He found himself feeling oddly better at the evidence that Kiffy was at least as scared of him as he was of her. It seemed to even things up.

The eyes blinked, but the sphinx didn't move otherwise. As his own eyes began adjusting to the dimness under the table, Tom could make out the outline of a lion's body, interrupted by a less distinct ruffle that probably meant wings. She was halfway curled up, but probably almost as long as the couch.... 

He thought her head tilted.

"Um, I could show you? I know a spell for light, I could cast it on something outside. Or I could light a fire in the fireplace, that'd be just as good."

Apparently Kiffy had decided that he was relatively unthreatening, as she appeared to be stretching out and relaxing a bit, though she kept her head up and her eyes open. Wings shifted on her back. 

She really _was_ almost as long as the couch.

"Are you hungry? Hagrid gave me some--" He cautiously put the bag down at arm's length and opened it. "They're spicy mice, I think."

There was a barely-audible sniff and no indication whatsoever that Kiffy was about to move. She was still watching him as if he might at any moment do something peculiar. As Tom had no idea what a sphinx might find odd or threatening, he wasn't at all sure he wouldn't.

He sat and watched her watch him for a moment. Maybe he was talking too much -- he might be hurting her feelings since she couldn't.

The silence stretched. And stretched. And... stretched. It could have been a Weasley product. 

Tom was starting to wonder if he would have to go to _her_.

He inched forward carefully. "I also have a brush, if you like. You have nice hair. And fur. And feathers, actually. I've never seen a sphinx before; I think I'm glad you're my first one."

The wings moved again, this time with an audible rustle. He hoped this was a good sign. He _really_ hoped it was a good sign when instead of backing away again, Kiffy rose to a very low crouch beneath the table and stretched her forelegs out. This was all well and good, but as her paws flexed the claws peeked out. They looked lethal... and despite the human face, when she yawned, her teeth were definitely a carnivore's.

He waited to see what she would do. "I don't think I mentioned, but Ginny Weasley is a friend of mine, she said she sometimes comes and does riddles with you. She'd be here now only we're doing detention, so she has to clean up after the hippogriffs."

Kiffy perked up slightly, then slunk forward until they were nose to nose. Tom started to back out from under the table, but the sphinx lifted a paw to his shoulder.

"Um," he said nervously. He was going to have to find a different noise; that one was getting used up. Possibly 'Er' would work better next time.

At least her claws were in. She studied him carefully for a moment, then patted him slightly on the shoulder and put her paw on his knee instead.

He had the oddest feeling she was trying to reassure _him._ He smiled. "If we were having a race to see which one of us could stay nervous longest, I think I won. What would you like to do now?"

It was hard to tell, considering the anatomy, but that was almost definitely a shrug. Kiffy removed her paw and regarded him without blinking. 

"Well, I've got the snacks if you're hungry, and I've got the brush if you'd like to be groomed, and there's the sand table if you'd prefer to do rebuses, but I don't really know what sphinxes do in their spare time, so I thought I'd let you pick."

Kiffy looked thoughtful, then crawled out from under the table (rather to Tom's relief) and went over to inspect the sand patch. She gave him an odd look upon finding the rebus he'd already sketched for her.  
"I thought you might like to answer some instead of just asking all the time. You don't have to if you don't want to. I left a space for you to draw the answer though, see?"

It wasn't exceptionally complex, as rebuses went; Tom had sketched a tree and a bull's head, then a key, and after a moment's contemplation Kiffy touched one claw to the sand and drew out a treble clef. 

"Right!" He grinned. "Your turn, then. And I've not done this sort of thing much, remember."

The first of Kiffy's symbols was a pair of diverging wavy lines, with little ripples in between. The second was distinctly a horse.

Tom thought. "Well, that first one looks like water... hm, in a line, a river? River... horse." He paused. Sphinxes came from Egypt. "Hippopotamus?"

Kiffy nodded, smiled, then swept a paw over the sand.

Tom sat back on his heels, considering, then drew a little hill with palm trees and water surrounding it, wrote "-IS, D" next to it, then a picture of a top with little arrows indicating it was spinning. "Um, sorry, I forgot to ask, can you read English? Because I'll come up with another one if you can't."

The sphinx studied this picture gravely, then drew an enclosed lamp... and hesitated, then painstakingly wrote out "lantern" in the sand.

"Right again. Sorry." He considered. "Do you read a lot? Because I could probably bring you books from the library sometimes, if you told me what kind you wanted."

The sphinx smiled thoughtfully at the sand, then began carefully drawing letters. A rhyming riddle took shape, one line at a time -- Tom committed each piece anxiously to memory before it was erased to get more space.

First is a flower whose beauty is certain,  
Off with the false wizard hid by a curtain.  
Next is the word that denotes state of being,  
Last a vampiric insect you'll be seeing.  
Strung all together in one line and mind,  
They describe one whose vanity has made him blind.

Oh, wonderful. He'd just reminded her she could write.

Tom thought for a moment. This was tricky. It didn't seem to add up. _Which_ flower, and _which_ insect? And curtains? That sounded like a reference to something... well, Filch was sort of a false wizard, being a Squib, and he hid behind almost anything... but that didn't make any sense either.

He gulped. "I, um...." He ran through all the kinds of flowers he knew in his mind, but couldn't take either "Argus" or "Filch" away from any of them. "I don't know. I'm sorry," he said faintly. He closed his eyes, hoping it would be quick. Maybe this would teach Snape not to hand out detentions so quickly.

Kiffy, who had been waiting patiently up to this point, reached a paw across his lap to snag the bag of spice mice with one claw. Tom's eyes opened as she dragged it back across his legs. The sphinx gave him a look of deep disappointment and another shrug, then pawed at the bag. It obviously hadn't been designed for someone without hands. 

"Oh. You're, um, not going to eat me?" He hastily held the bag open for her before she decided on easier food. "Sorry, I just... how _do_ you take Argus Filch away from a flower, anyway?"

Kiffy gave him another reproachful look, heaved a sigh, and smoothed the sand clear. Then she wrote:

Narcissus  
Oz  
Is  
Tick

"Oz? What's Oz? Is that the wizard?"

Yes.  
An imaginary one.  
And a humbug.  
Doubly false.

She smiled then, and in what had to rank among the more peculiar experiences of his life, lifted her head to kiss him on the cheek.

"Oh. I've never heard of him, that book must've come out after I was... anyway, after 1945. Or been American, I didn't get to read very many American books." He blinked at the kiss, then smiled slowly. He'd definitely had worse detentions, he supposed.

What?   
You read everything in England?

"Oh. Well, no." He chuckled. "I'd _like_ to, though. No, it's just, I grew up in an orphanage, and there wasn't enough money to get a lot of books, and I didn't have very much pocket money of my own. I'll probably never catch up now." His tone nevertheless suggested that he'd like to try, and he dared a wink at Kiffy.

Well, I will not prevent you. You do not kiss meals.

Then she smiled again -- this time a smirk -- and began again:

One tells you that there is limited light;  
Two is an herb served with lamb to delight  
Three is a bull, but without you and me,  
All make up a creature you don't want to see.

Tom thought. "Okay, the second is mint--we had lamb in mint sauce at Christmas my first year, it was really good. The third one . . .hm, bull, but _with_ you and me so I can take it away later . . . oh, of course, Taurus. Take away us, leaving taur. Mint, taur . . . " He shuddered. "You're right, I certainly don't want to meet any of those. I read about them in the back of my Defense Against the Dark Arts book. They sound horrible."

Foul creatures. They walk and smell already rotted.  
I suppose it would be more reassuring to say that _I_ don't kiss meals.

Tom laughed. "I hope you won't be offended, but your sense of humor reminds me of a snake I used to talk to in the park. Funny, but disturbing. Carnivore smiles, you know?"

Parselmouth then?   
Snakes are all right. They never seem to care if I can answer them or not.

"Yes, I am." He blinked. "Can you understand them too, then?"

I learned to, somewhat, from ones who climbed onto me for heat before I lived with humans. I don't know if they ever knew. I can understand a little, but not speak.

"I suppose being handy with languages is helpful when you're a sphinx. If you learned, though, I wonder if someone else might?" He stared off into the distance for a moment. "Only I'm not sure how to _teach_ it, as I never really _learned,_ myself. Hmm." He blinked. "Sorry, my mind tends to wander occasionally."

Hiss at someone a lot. Or ask them to hold still and let a serpent lick their ears clean; there's a legend that will work, I think, but I don't know of any who've tried it.

"Asclepius, wasn't that? And that's why there are snakes on the caduceus? There are a lot of Muggle myths that turn out to be half-remembered wizard things, so that might actually work." He snickered, picturing asking Ginny to hold still so he could stick a snake in her ear. "Don't know who I'd get to volunteer, though."

The sphinx shrugged, ate a spice mouse, and began drawing in the sand again. By the time Hagrid came back, there had been a brief interlude demonstrating the fun of shadows under a table in a brightly-lit room, and the two were back at the sand-patch with Tom leaning on Kiffy's side and a wing over his back. 

"Well, looks like the two of yeh ended up gettin' along just fine." 

"Oh, hello, Hagrid," Tom said. "Is detention over already?" He looked up, abruptly no longer relaxed. "Yeah, Kiffy's a lot of fun. She knows some very tricky riddles -- although I'm going to have to ask Hermione why she didn't think to see if Kiffy knew how to write."

"Write?" Hagrid looked over the sand-patch in surprise. "Well, that's bright, that is. I'm surprised she didn' start sooner, as much as she's been drawing." He looked sternly down at Tom. "If yeh've had that much fun, though, maybe I'd better keep yeh in for some other chore...."

"I thought she was going to eat me for a while at the start, honest," Tom said hurriedly. "I got one of the first riddles wrong."

"Oh, Kiffy's glad enough of the company she won' go making kills over a wrong answer," Hagrid told him coolly. "Nothin' ter worry over. Hasn' eaten me yet, has she?" 

Which suggested she _could_.... There were few things more disturbing than Hagrid's acknowledging, even obliquely, that one of his "interesting creatures" was dangerous. Though apparently he'd warned the third-years about the hippogriffs.

"Well, it doesn't _look_ that way." Ginny peered through the door from where she'd stopped to pick dirty straw off her robes.

Tom managed not to chuckle at her--apparently she _hadn't_ been having the best detention of her entire Hogwarts career. He supposed Hagrid would probably have him cleaning stalls next time, but possibly he could stop by and visit Kiffy on their next Care of Magical Creatures tutorial.

"Stop smirking." After casting a spell to clean her shoes off, Ginny came into the house and knelt on the other side of the sphinx. She still had some of the straw in her hair. "I told you you'd like her."

Tom picked a stray bit of straw off the top of her head. "Somehow you keep being right. I thought I was supposed to be the genius." He smiled at Kiffy. "It's about time for us to have dinner, so we'd better go."

"You ought to come back and visit her," Ginny told him. "I think she likes you, too." 

Tom looked nervously up at Hagrid. "Well, I'll try to do that -- before the next time I get in trouble -- if that's all right...."

"Fine with me," the gamekeeper said gruffly. "Not likely yeh'd get this next time anyway -- thought it'd be good fer yeh and useful, but detention's not meant ter be fun."

"And it wasn't," Ginny said firmly, "especially since I had to miss all Ron's chess matches this afternoon! I wonder if the tournament is over, or if they'll have to go back after dinner? I don't know how quickly they'll have played.... Goodbye, Hagrid, I'll see you in class next week."

Tom blinked, told the sphinx goodbye as well, and followed Ginny out the door with alacrity. "Your brother's in a chess tournament? I didn't even know there was one."

Ginny stared at him as though he'd been the victim of a particularly interesting hex. "You didn't -- it's been all in the papers! I know you weren't... around... over the summer, but they still had notices in the Prophet until registration was over last month...."

"I've had Quidditch. And, um, Potions. And most of what I get from the Prophet is Malfoy's leavings, and they've been editorialized after publication. How's Ron likely to do? I mean, I know I don't know him very well, but I wasn't even aware he played."

"Hmm. There's usually an extra copy or two around the Gryffindor common room after people are through with them." Ginny sped up, eyes alight. "Ron's _very_ good. He beat Professor McGonagall's chess-puzzle year before last, and I haven't seen him lose in ages. I'm surprised _I_ didn't mention the tournament to you, at least this past week -- Ron wouldn't; he's been nervous."

"I'd wondered what you were so distracted about. Well, you'll see him at dinner -- tell him good luck from me, unless that'd make him more nervous, and let me know how he did after?"

"I will, if he isn't finished yet. They _could_ already be finished, if everyone played quickly -- but that's not very likely, so I hope he's still playing. That would mean he's won so far, _and_ that I might be able to get permission to go watch this evening." She considered. "I suppose that's not likely though.... I had asked Professor McGonagall if I might be able to, but even if she'd make an exception and let me off the grounds, I'd need a letter -- and I haven't asked yet, but Mum probably wouldn't give me one after I had detention even if there _were_ time."

"Oh, it's not at the school?" Tom thought. "That must mean it's a _regional_ tournament, not just a Hogwarts one. Ron _must_ be good."

"It's in Hogsmeade. I don't think you could have helped noticing if they'd been planning for it here! Dessert would probably have been shaped like chess pieces all week."

Tom laughed. "True enough. And speaking of dessert, if you don't want to go to dinner smelling like hippogriff stalls, we'd better run or that'll be all that's left."

Ginny made a face at him but broke into a run. "Race you there."

*****

Ginny scurried into the cafeteria after a hasty but vastly beneficial shower and found the Gryffindor table in a state of uproar. Ron pushed out of the center of a celebratory knot and snatched her off her feet. "Ginny! Ginny, I won!" 

"It's over already?" she gasped. "That was fast."

"I know! I still can't believe it. It was just--I played really well, and the chess pieces--they were tournament regulation standard, really amazing, and--you won't believe it, I got my picture in the Prophet! It's going in tomorrow's edition!"

Ginny squealed and hugged his neck. "Ron, that's wonderful! Congratulations!" She laughed. "Tom asked me to tell you good luck for him, but I guess I don't need to."

Ron grinned. "Not with half of Hogwarts telling me good luck this morning, no--but tell him thanks anyway. I wish you could've been there--Snape probably picked today for your detention on purpose."

Ginny grimaced. "Well, I wish I could have watched too, but I should have thought about it before we picked that potion -- though you're right, I think he was going to send us to Filch that night and changed it. It _was_ the perfect opportunity, though."

"I've seen the pictures." Ron grinned. "Now come on, there's plenty to eat and there's a celebration in Gryffindor Tower after. I think Fred and George smuggled in some butterbeer somehow."

"Uh-oh." She hugged him hard, and he set her back on her feet so she could sit down at the table. Dinner was very loud that night.

*****


	2. Gryffindor and Serpent

Disclaimer and Authors' Note: Harry Potter, the associated fictional universe, and all characters and items contained therein are intellectual property of J. K. Rowling. We are just playing and have no intention of claim or material profit. It should be noted that this story takes place in an alternate timeline diverging after the end of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; preceding stories are "Who We Are" and "Trouble Brewing," which explain why Tom Riddle is running around Hogwarts, why he's friends with Ginny, and what happened to Voldemort. Available under http://www.thedarkarts.org/authorLinks/Persephone_Kore/ and http://www.thedarkarts.org/authorLinks/Persephone_Kore_and_Alan_Sauer/ respectively or at http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=36169.

Worth a Thousand Words  
by Alan Sauer   
and Persephone Kore  
Chapter 2

Having gone in search of him the following afternoon (Quidditch practice at dawn had resulted in most of the morning being occupied), Harry peered around a tall bookshelf and spotted Tom reading at one of the library's less obvious tables. He paused for a moment, then concentrated and gave an experimental hiss. 

It sounded to his own ears very much like "Hello." 

Tom looked up. 

Harry moved forward, feeling cautiously rather pleased at having succeeded in speaking Parseltongue without the presence or depiction of an actual snake. Apparently another Parselmouth would also do.

"Hello," Tom hissed back. "Amusement, or secrecy?"

Harry shrugged and settled into the next chair over. "Seeing if I could. I didn't know I was doing it the first couple of times, and until now it seemed like I had to be looking at a snake I could at least pretend was alive." He grinned suddenly. "Of course, it should keep us from getting in trouble for talking too loudly in the library...."

"Yes, but we'd frighten anyone who overheard. I wasn't sure I was doing it either, at first -- thought maybe when I was talking to the snake in the park I was just talking to myself and imagining the answers."

"The first time a boa constrictor thanked me for accidentally letting it out.... I wasn't sure if I'd heard it or not. The second it was pretty obvious the snake had understood me, but I had to be told I wasn't speaking English." Harry frowned. And he'd been accused of egging the snake on when it had obviously settled down as soon as he spoke to it. "Oh well. What are you reading?"

"I managed to figure it out on my own after reading ahead in some of my textbooks, but... oh, this? _Riddles and Puzzles to Bewilder the Brain,_ by Conan Drum. Want to be up to snuff the next time I visit Kiffy."

"Ginny mentioned she seemed to have taken to you. Actually, that's sort of why I'm here... she's busier than she expected today and asked if I'd tell you about the chess tournament for her." To his great relief, she hadn't overturned anything or blushed in the process. This may have been because she was in too much of a hurry.

"Oh, that's right, she told me about that. How'd Ron do? She was pretty hopeful about his chances. Did she get a chance to see any of the matches after dinner?"

"There weren't any." Harry grinned irrepressibly. "He'd won already."

Tom blinked. "That's impressive. I wondered why you lot were so loud at dinner."

"That was it. And he's on the front page of the Daily Prophet for it -- probably you haven't seen it because Malfoy's been trying to destroy every copy he can get his hands on."

"All the copies I could find did seem to start with page two." Tom chuckled. "Good for Ron."

"He's thrilled. He keeps saying he finally got in a photo without at least two of his brothers in it. Mr. Weasley _is_ in there -- something about a raid in Knockturn Alley -- but that's in another section. Wonder if Malfoy's been tearing those out too?"

"Wouldn't surprise me, especially if any of his father's stuff was in with what was seized. What was the chess tournament like? I played a little my first year, but not what I would call competitively."

"It was... very tense, and the chess pieces were always whispering. I don't think anybody'd expected it to go that fast, either -- some of the players looked very rushed."

"Sounds exciting. Wish I'd known about it... not that that would've done any good, I thought Snape was a little too pleased about the timing of our detention."

"I don't know how often they have it; maybe they'll do it again next --" Harry broke off as Professor McGonagall came into sight, looked around, and walked briskly toward them. Her lips were pressed together; this seemed ominous. Harry ran his mind back through his recent activities; he didn't think he'd done anything to get himself in trouble with her....

Tom blinked at her sudden appearance as well; he was still attempting to adjust his mental image of her from the young substitute professor his first year... although that expression was certainly familiar.

"Mr. Potter," she began, rather more stiffly than usual. "It appears that it will be necessary for you to visit Hogsmeade despite your guardians' failure to sign your permission form."

Harry's mouth fell open in surprise. "What do you -- I mean, thank you, but... why?"

"Only one visit, mind you," she amended sternly. "There seems to be...." To their surprise, she hesitated. "It seems that a large serpent has arrived and is writing messages with its tail that suggest it is looking for someone of your description with whom it conversed some time ago and since has been seeking."

Tom blinked. "A snake's _writing_ messages? About Harry? Can I come?"

"You _may_ not. The conversation, if there's to be one, requires only one human being, and despite the circumstances with his guardians, Harry Potter _is_ a third-year whereas you, Mr. Riddle, are not. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it. Mr. Potter, please come with me." 

Tom grimaced. If anything, she'd gotten even _more_ strict. Practice, he supposed. "I'll see you later, then, Harry. You can tell me what happens."

"I will," Harry promised. "Maybe this _is_ the boa?" He got up hurriedly and followed Professor McGonagall out of the library. He didn't see how or why the boa from the zoo might have found itself in Hogsmeade and writing messages -- though it had pointed to its sign for him, so perhaps it could read -- but he couldn't think of any _other_ large serpent he'd talked to that might still be around. 

*****

Hogsmeade was cool, but sunnier than Harry would have expected for the time of year. He supposed that was probably good for the snake.

Professor McGonagall was walking briskly enough that he had to trot to keep up, but he still found time to look all around at the wizarding village. What he saw only made him wish harder that he had permission to spend time there....

The Marauder's Map was certainly a find and he was still very grateful to the twins for it (though Tom Riddle's presence at the school tended to remind him at inconvenient moments about the potential hazards of things that wrote to you by themselves), but sneaking into Hogsmeade with it had certain limitations. He hadn't had that much time to explore outside the one shop, for one thing -- Hermione had kept worrying that someone might look for him.

He wasn't very happy to discover that they were heading toward a crowd, and was even less so when McGonagall steered him firmly between people until they emerged in an open space in the center.

The long snake lifting its head to look at the new arrivals _did_ look like the boa from the zoo. He had spent a good bit of time looking at the boa; he thought he was reasonably sure of recognizing it. The snake wasn't the problem. He could have done without the _audience_!

McGonagall had her wand out, he saw. He wondered if he was expecting the boa to attack him, or everyone else when they saw him talk to it.

Harry looked at the ground. There wasn't much grass here, just bare dirt... with messages scrawled in it.

I was talking to a boy bac when I was at the zoo, time befor last it was properly warm. I heard this might be the place to finb humans with odd talents. Anybody seen him? Dark (here "fur" was marked out but still legible) hair, not too tidy? Little for one of yu, but he may be bigger now.

It took Harry some time to make all this out, as it had been stepped on in a few places and didn't look as if it had been very well planned in the first place.

He took a deep breath and walked forward. The boa started to hiss in protest, then broke off. "Hey, don't walk on -- well, I don't sssuppose it matters any more, does it?" A pause. "It _issss_ you, isn't it? You look like the right one...."

"Er . . . yes, I think so," Harry replied, concentrating very hard on the snake to be sure his words came out right. "If you were the one in the zoo, and the glass disappeared and you frightened my cousin? The fat one?"

After all, there _might_ be another lightning-scarred, dark-haired Parselmouth wandering around. Two years at Hogwarts had taught him that just about anything was possible.

There was a murmur from the crowd, but nobody stepped forward. Harry supposed they probably shouldn't be too shocked, really, considering he'd been brought in specifically to talk to the snake.

"Yesss!" The boa sounded absolutely delighted. "Finally! Sssomeone I can talk to properly -- have you ever tried to write with your tail, amigo?" 

"...No."

"Well, I wouldn't recommend it. People keep trampling on the wordss."

"What are you _doing_ here?" Professor McGonagall was starting to shoo the crowd away, for which Harry was very grateful, but the stragglers were _still_ staring. Of course, people frequently stared at Harry anyway, and he was not exactly surprised that people had been staring a lot at a large boa constrictor that wrote notes in the dirt. He wished, however, that they would all stop.

"It turnss out Brazil is on the other sside of an _ocean_. Ssso I thought I'd come ssee how you were doing."

"Oh." It hadn't occurred to him to mention the Atlantic last time he'd seen the snake. "Pretty well. It's been... exciting."

"I hear that, amigo. You try ssslithering acrosss an entire country ssometime, that'ss what I call exciting."

"It sounds tiring," Harry said politely. That might be why it had taken more than two years, of course.

"I'll be grateful for a resst, that'ss for ssure. Ssso, where are you sstaying thesse dayss?"

"At Hogwarts. It's a school for magic...."

The snake nodded shrewdly. "That'd be how you can talk to me, right, amigo? Sssaw ssome ssstrange thingss in thiss village, iss why I rissked the notess."

"Yes -- I didn't find out until my second year that not all wizards could do it; I thought it had been the same as making the glass disappear." He looked down at the lettering in the dirt. "I didn't know you could write in English, though."

"Sssomebody dropped a newsspaper in my tank once. I wass bored. I wass almosst alwayss bored. Thankss again, by the way."

"You're welcome. I can't really take credit, though. I didn't know what I was doing then at all." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what exactly to do. It sounded as if the boa constrictor intended to come visit him. This was going to get an interesting reaction at Hogwarts, if hopefully a much calmer one than the initial revelation that he was a Parselmouth.

"Sso... how many of you are there? That can talk to sssnakess, I mean. When I ssaw the flying people -- ssilly practice, flittering around like birdss -- I thought I wass home free, but...." The snake flickered a disparaging tongue at the writing in the dirt. "It didn't work out that way."

"It's pretty rare, actually. And it disturbs some people. The Founder of one of the houses could, but I only know of two of us now." He wondered, suddenly, if it could be taught. He hadn't noticed the first time that he wasn't speaking English, and he still had to think about it, but there were definitely differences in the hissing.... 

"Two, huh? Iss the other one at your Hogwartss too?"

"Yes. There was another one -- sort of -- who used to be, but he was a lot older and he... turned bad. He's dead now." 

"That'ss too bad. Ssay, amigo --" The snake looked a bit embarrassed, insofar as snakes were capable of that, or any, expression. "I don't ssupposse I could sstay with you for a while, could I? I'm a bit at loossse endss, you ssee, and you're the only human I know. I could maybe take care of the ratss at Hogwartss? Lotss of buildingss around here have ratss."

There had to be SOMETHING to eat there, if a snake the size of the basilisk had lived for a thousand years there. Of course, it could have been enchanted somehow, but it at least seemed to have been aware of the passage of time. And there had been those rat skeletons.... "I think we do too. And I might have to ask the Headmaster, but I think it would be all right." The boa constrictor was a lot nicer than the _last_ large serpent to inhabit the school, after all. Harry glanced up at McGonagall quickly -- he'd have to ask _her_, first -- and then thought of something he should probably make sure of first. "You'd have to promise not to eat the other students' pets, though. Some have rats or toads -- and there's this one toad that's getting away _all_ the time."

"Toadss, eh? There'ss good eating on a toad -- oh, all right, don't look at me like that, but I hope there'ss a way to tell whether ssomething'ss a pet or food."

Harry thought fast. "Um... probably if it smells a lot like a human it's a pet? You could always bring it over and ask if you're not sure. And we could introduce you to Trevor -- that's the toad that keeps getting lost."

"Fair enough. And maybe I could sssneak in occasssionally and take mealss with you lot? If there'ss meat, I mean. Or rollss. I ssnuck into a bakery truck in Edinburgh, and had rollss. I like rollss."

Harry paused before answering. "I'm not sure _sneaking_ is an option, but you could probably come in. You might end up spending more time with Tom, though -- that's the other one who could talk to you -- his house's mascot is a serpent, so they'll probably especially like you." 

All right. He had to ask Professor McGonagall about inviting the boa to Hogwarts right away, before they got past "probably." It wouldn't be fair to promise it could come and then find out McGonagall wouldn't even let it visit. 

"That ssssounds nice...."

"Look," Harry said quickly, "I have to ask first, before I really invite you anywhere. Professor McGonagall brought me here -- she's not the Headmaster, that's Dumbledore, but I'll have to check with her before we could go back there at all."

The snake nodded. "Go ahead, then, it'ss chilly out here."

He took a deep breath and turned to her. She looked rather surprised. "Professor McGonagall... do you think the boa could come back to Hogwarts with us? It couldn't get to Brazil, and this isn't really... I didn't ask how it managed the last two winters."

She looked even _more_ surprised. "I'm not sure that would be appropriate, Mr. Potter, particularly after last year. If nothing else, it is quite a _large_ snake, likely to be difficult to feed -- and I believe you already have a pet."

"Tom doesn't," Harry said in a moment of wild inspiration, "and anyway it says it could hunt, mostly. There are rats some places in the castle, I've seen skeletons...." He swallowed. "And it's _much_ nicer than the basilisk. It wouldn't hurt anyone."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Professor Snape has been muttering about rats in his ingredient stores, and a snake in the Slytherin dormitory would be... less out of place than one in Gryffindor Tower." She considered the snake, thin-lipped. "I suppose a trial period might be permissible. But both you and Mr. Riddle will be held strictly responsible for its conduct."

"It didn't really do anything to my cousin Dudley, and _he'd_ been bothering it," Harry told her. "I don't think there's anything to worry about. Thank you very much." He turned back to the boa and hissed, "She says you can come for a while at least, but that if you get into trouble, Tom and I will too. He's the other Parselmouth -- I'll introduce you."

"Jusst as long as there'ss food and warmth, I'll ssit up and beg. Thankss again, amigo."

"You're welcome. It's nice to see you again." He was a little nervous about the reactions back at Hogwarts, but he couldn't exactly let the boa spend the winter wandering around outside this far north, could he? 

"Well, as the situation seems to have been resolved, we should return to the school. Mr. Riddle will need to be apprised of the situation -- if he declines, you understand, I doubt very highly that the snake will be able to stay."

Harry tried not to grin. He'd seen Tom looking enviously after them, even if Professor McGonagall hadn't. "I understand." 

*****

Once they got back to Hogwarts, Harry rushed back toward the library in hopes of finding Tom still there. The boa kept pace without any difficulty through the corridors while other students gave them startled looks. Harry winced at the thought of the rumors that might be going around -- when he spotted Ron and Hermione, he stopped abruptly and grabbed Ron's arm. "Er, hi."

"Hey! Harry, what's the -- is that a _snake?_" He pulled out his wand. "You've got a snake chasing you, Harry, d'you need a hand?"

"No! Well, not with that. This is the boa constrictor I talked to at the zoo once before I came here. That hadn't seen Brazil?" Harry stopped and took a deep breath, aware that he was getting a bit off track. "It was writing messages in Hogsmeade to try to find me again."

Ron blinked. "It was writing? To you?"

"More along the lines of asking if anybody had seen me. It's going to stay here, at least for a while." Harry paused for thought. "We'll want to introduce it to Scabbers, to make sure it knows he's not to eat."

Ron frowned at Hermione. "Yes, Scabbers has enough problems already. Is it staying with us? I dunno if Neville and Seamus and Dean are going to like that -- Neville's really not keen on snakes."

"I was just taking it to meet Tom, actually, if I can find him. Professor McGonagall pointed out that I've already got Hedwig; he doesn't have a pet, and the Slytherins shouldn't mind it." He lowered his voice. "And their common room _is_ warmer than the Potions classroom."

Ron chuckled. "So it is. We ran into him when we were coming in, I think he said something about nicking some food from the kitchens."

"I'd probably better introduce them soon. For one thing Professor McGonagall said we'd both be held responsible for whatever the boa did -- of course I don't think it'll do anything to cause problems, but it's only fair he know about it. Besides, he was there when she came to take me to meet it, and I think he was jealous."

"Jealous of going to meet a big snake. Must be a Parselmouth thing." Ron shook his head.

"Isn't it very large for a boa constrictor?" Hermione asked. "I read that they could grow to about eighteen feet, but this looks longer...." She was examining the serpent curiously, if a bit warily.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I hadn't read that."

"Well, I suppose he got plenty to eat at the zoo... you know, my parents take me there every year; I heard about him escaping but I didn't think to connect it with magic, I'd just gotten my letter the week before. It's amazing he's managed so well on his own all this time."

"I didn't know you'd been to the same one." Harry looked at the boa, who was watching them politely.

"She doesss look a bit familiar, I think. I don't remember everyone, though. She didn't try to make me move, but asssked lotss of quesstions."

"Sounds like Hermione," Harry replied, then continued in English. "He says you look a bit familiar."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "I wouldn't have expected him to recognize me. There must be thousands of people who visit." 

Harry grinned. "Apparently you asked enough questions to be memorable."

She chuckled. "Well, that's nice. I... suppose we'd better go find Tom. Or would you rather look for him on your own, and we can tell people not to be surprised? Everyone seems to have calmed down about your being a Parselmouth, but you haven't been being followed around by a giant snake all this time."

"Why don't we do that, then? I can find my way to the kitchens easily enough; Fred and George told me how...." He raised an eyebrow. "_You're_ taking my being followed around by a giant snake rather well, considering last year."

"Well, this one's hardly a basilisk, is he? I always thought that was an interesting exhibit, though I'll admit it wasn't my absolute favorite. Of course, I was _startled_, and it's a little unnerving not to have glass in between, but if you've had polite conversations with him there oughtn't to be anything to worry about."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Better go find Tom before she starts describing the really interesting ones. I'll head back to the common room and see if I can catch Neville and the others; I'm not going to get any more prepared for Shrinking Charms anyway."

"He's actually doing them quite well," Hermione confided before she and Ron hurried off to the Gryffindor dorm. "Don't forget to practice!"

As Harry was about to start toward the kitchens, Tom strolled around the corner, munching on a hot buttered roll. "Oh, good, you're back," he said, swallowing. "Got hungry waiting, and...." He stopped, staring at the boa in wonder.  
  
"I didn't think _you'd_ look that shocked," Harry said to him.

"Well, he's very big, isn't he?" He smiled, and hissed, "Nice to meet you. I've only talked to garden snakes before."

"Ah, ssso you're the other one he mentioned. Tom, yess? Nice to meet you too." 

"Yes, I wanted to come down to the village as well, but...." Tom grimaced. "Rules. Are you going to be staying here?"

"At leasssst for a while, if you agree to it. Longer, I hope. That Professsor McGonagall seemed to think I might get into trouble, but I've no plansss for that."

"If _I_ agree?" He shot Harry a questioning look. "And Professor McGonagall is... well, she's scrupulously fair, but she's also Head of Gryffindor, who are usually rivals to Slytherin -- which is the house I'm in -- and our mascot is a serpent. You should come down and visit; you'd probably have everybody getting you food."

"That sssounds nice." Harry got the impression, though he had no idea how, of a grin. "Sssshe said _he_ already had a pet, and he ssaid you didn't, ssso it looks like I was already being encouraged to visit. Good to have a ssspecific invitation as well." The boa paused, then added, "I'm not sssure I'd call myself a pet, exactly, but as far as it goessss..."

"Well, of course you're not a pet. But you can be counted as mine as far as the rules are concerned if you like, and stay in my dorm as long as you want to." Tom paused, briefly aware that he was probably grinning like an idiot. "I don't suppose you're hungry now? All I've got are a couple more rolls from the kitchen, I wasn't very hungry and I wasn't expecting company."

The boa perked up. "I like rollss."

Tom dug one out of his robe pocket and put it on the floor next to the boa. "Here you are, then, and I can generally get more." He looked up at Harry. "You ever tried sneaking down to the kitchens? I was nearly given a whole chicken before I managed to convince the house-elves I just wanted a snack."

"No, I haven't...." Harry watched the boa swallow the roll. "I hadn't realized you understood English. I don't think I relayed all of that to you."

"I've heard more human ssspeech than sssnake, living in the zoo for sso long. I underssstand your language perfectly well -- I jusst can't speak it."

"Didn't McGonagall say he was writing notes in English?" Tom pointed out mischievously. "Hope you pay closer attention in her class."

"I knew _that_," Harry retorted. "I read them. But he mentioned learning that from a newspaper; I didn't know he understood it to listen to as well. Hermione says that's harder than learning to read a language anyway."

"Maybe it isn't for snakes. Besides, Kiffy understands English as well. _And_ a bit of Parseltongue, actually, she said."

"Who're you talking about, now?" the boa asked. 

"Kiffy. She's a sphinx, only she's mute, so she has to write her riddles down -- and Harry, tell Hermione she should've thought of that before trying the rebuses, by the way -- and she's in the same boat with Parseltongue as you are with English; can understand, or at least can a little, but not speak."

"That'sss an interesting one. I'll have to meet her ssometime." The boa lifted its head, tongue flicking out to test the air. "Thanksss for the roll -- and the place, both of you. Ssso. Care to go and sshow me what your dorm's like?"

"Sure. I'll see you later, Harry." Suddenly Tom laughed. "Malfoy's going to go absolutely insane he didn't think of having a snake first."

Harry grinned. "Tell me all about it. I'm going to go see what exactly Ron and Hermione are telling the Gryffindors."

*****


	3. Black Fudge and Dementors

_Disclaimer and Authors' Note: Harry Potter, the associated fictional universe, and all characters and items contained therein are intellectual property of J. K. Rowling. We are just playing and have no intention of claim or material profit. It should be noted that this story is part of the Time's Riddle series and takes place in an alternate timeline diverging after the end of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; preceding stories are "Who We Are" and "Trouble Brewing," which explain why Tom Riddle is running around Hogwarts, why he's friends with Ginny, and what happened to Voldemort. Available under http://www.thedarkarts.org/authorLinks/Persephone_Kore/ and http://www.thedarkarts.org/authorLinks/Persephone_Kore_and_Alan_Sauer/ respectively or at http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=36169_

**Worth a Thousand Words  
Time's Riddle series  
by Alan Sauer and Persephone  
Chapter 3**

The next few days were abuzz with the usual pre-Halloween excitement, and finally the night of the feast arrived.

Tom scooped another serving of beans on his plate and glared halfheartedly in the direction of the Gryffindor table. The Great Hall was decked out in full Halloween glory, and the feast was well underway... but Tom really wished the boa had stayed to keep _him_ company rather than going off to cadge rolls from Harry. After all, Harry _had_ several friends in his own House. Tom was stuck listening to Malfoy's latest exaggerated tale of his own exploits, punctuated by sniggers from Crabbe and Goyle, or on his other side Marcus Flint discussing with Derrick and Bole, the Slytherin Beaters, how best to knock someone off their broom.

Suddenly there was a commotion by the doors, and a stout wizard wearing a pinstriped suit under a purple cape strode determinedly toward the staff table. "What's Cornelius Fudge doing _here_?" Malfoy asked dumbfoundedly, and then, catching Tom's look of confusion, sneered and added "The Minister of Magic, Riddle. Try to keep up."

Tom rolled his eyes -- but Malfoy had a point; what _was_ the Minister of Magic doing at Hogwarts' Halloween feast?

He overheard a comment from an apparently oblivious Gryffindor -- Longbottom, maybe? -- about how "Well, it might be worse if he'd brought an actual lion!" before the Hall fell silent and he caught Harry's quick hiss to the boa to stay put under the table. Fudge gave no sign of having noticed either the discussion, the hiss, or the fact that most of the Gryffindor table (despite being overall unexpectedly enthusiastic about feeding the boa once they got used to the idea -- no wonder he was staying over there) had their feet tucked up slightly. He reached Dumbledore and spoke quietly to him for a moment, then turned and faced the rest of the Great Hall. 

"I regret to have to announce that Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban."

Pandemonium ensued. Tom was slightly nonplussed -- he _had_ thought Professor Caerlune had told him his first year that Azkaban was impossible to escape, but... Malfoy's sharp laugh cut through his rumination. "Well, that'll be the last of Potter, then." He caught Tom's eye and sneered. "You as well, Riddle, with any luck."

Tom couldn't reply at once; Fudge, after calling ineffectually for quiet, had turned in appeal to Dumbledore. The Headmaster produced his wand and a thunderclap sounded throughout the Great Hall; everyone was startled into silence as Dumbledore cleared his throat and then gestured again to Fudge.

"Let me assure you that all possible precautions are being taken. Both magical and Muggle authorities have of course been alerted, and for your especial protection a guard of Dementors has been dispatched to Hogwarts...."

Here he was interrupted again as Dumbledore, frowning, rose to tap him on the shoulder. There was a brief conversation; Dumbledore's expression steadily darkened and his gestures grew more emphatic, but Fudge remained apparently unmoved, and Dumbledore finally sat down, still frowning. "Er... as I say," Fudge continued, "Dementors will be patrolling outside the grounds. We are certain we will recapture the, er, recapture Black as soon as possible. You need not fear for your safety."

*Yes, except for Dementors patrolling the grounds,* Tom thought. As Fudge sat down at the staff table, presumably to finalize arrangements with Dumbledore, Tom turned to Malfoy. "What d'you mean, this'll be the last of Harry and me?"

"Oh, you haven't heard of Black, have you?" Malfoy smiled and waved his fork, then pointed it straight at Tom. "Sirius Black. The Dark Lord's right-hand-man, at least so _some_ say, and he was the one who led him to the Potters in the first place. Then blew up an entire street when little Pettigrew went after him --that was a bumbling friend of theirs, I heard, and such a _Gryffindor_ he went off for vengeance anyway -- killed thirteen people with the one curse. He'll have come back looking for Potter now, of course--likely you too, after the way _this_ year started. Perhaps you're the real reason." Malfoy shrugged and deftly lifted the head off a dancing skeleton made of bread. "I'm certain everyone will _say_ it's all about _Potter_, naturally. Not that I'd be surprised at that either."

Tom looked over at the Gryffindor table. _Harry_ didn't seem too worried; he was sneaking the boa another morsel under the table. But maybe Harry didn't _know_. By all accounts he'd grown up thinking his parents had died in a car accident, after all. He drew in breath to hiss a question across the common room, and then froze. Harry was in Gryffindor. And he'd gone after Voldemort quick enough -- twice. He'd hunt his parents' betrayer with the same foolhardy bravery he'd shown against their killer -- and maybe Tom was new to the idea of having friends, but sending one's friends off to face somebody who killed thirteen people at a time... didn't seem like the thing to do. At least without asking Ginny, who'd known Harry longer and knew the history better than he did.

He spent the rest of the feast in a rather brooding silence.

*****

After their last class the next day, Harry pulled Ron and Hermione aside. "Look, I was thinking," he began. Hermione looked strangely agitated by this statement; he cast her a puzzled look and went on. "Hagrid looked awfully upset about the Dementors being here -- I know he said Azkaban was horrid. It's early enough yet that we could go down to visit him before dinner...."

Ron grinned. "Better than writing all that Divination homework. What about you, Hermione?"

"Well -- we _do_ have to get that done -- but Harry's quite right; if Azkaban was dreadful for him he can't possibly be happy about the Dementors, even if they are here to protect us."

"I don't quite like that, really," Ron said dubiously. "Did you see how Dumbledore looked when Fudge announced them?"

"He didn't even look that mad when Malfoy's dad came to suspend him last year," Harry said. "And Professor McGonagall kept looking at me last night when she announced the curfews, I thought."

"Well, we've got a bit of a reputation, haven't we?" Ron pointed out reasonably.

Hermione bit her lip. "That's not all of it...."

Harry grinned. "What, Black's in _Hogwarts: A History_? Tell me while we head down to Hagrid's, all right? There's not _that_ much time before dinner."

They stepped out into the crisp air with Hermione seeming to be on the verge of wringing her hands. "He isn't in _Hogwarts: A History_. But I did go to the library and do some research on him. He was convicted for killing thirteen people with one curse... but before that... well, it's said he was You-Know-Who's most trusted associate. So... so everyone thinks he's after you, Harry."

Harry gulped, but kept moving. "Well, Voldemort's dealt with, anyway -- Thirteen people?"

"Yes. And... oh, Harry, he led him to your parents."

This stopped Harry dead. "He did _what_?"

Hermione looked at him with huge eyes. "There's a special spell, the Fidelius Charm, for people who need to go into hiding. But it depends on one very trusted person keeping the secret... and he... he didn't."

"He betrayed my parents." Harry's fists were clenched at his sides. "They trusted him, and he _sold_ them."

"The dirty --" Ron began furiously. Then he looked at Harry. "Harry, you can't go after him." 

"I'd like to know why not," Harry said dangerously. "I did for his stinking master, didn't I?"

"Harry, please!" Hermione turned and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You really can't. That's exactly why people think he'll come for you! Well -- that and your parents, but --" She stopped dead as a sudden chill hit them, and though for once the sky was clear it seemed that a cloud passed over the sun.

Harry blinked furiously as it just kept getting darker -- in midafternoon, he thought indignantly... but then he was feeling too cold and miserable to worry about the time of day, and screaming began in his ears....

"Harry!" He swam back up to consciousness, and Ron's worried face inches from his own, with a violent shake -- Ron grabbing him by the shoulders, he thought. Hermione, pale and frightened, peered over Ron's shoulder -- and a dark, cloaked shape drifted out of sight along the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"What was -- agh, Ron, get off. What _was_ that?" He shivered. "Did you hear the -- screaming?"

"I didn't hear any screaming," Ron said dubiously, "but _that_ was a Dementor." He shuddered. "Look, _those_ are what's after Black now. Do you really think you need to join in? I just want them to get him and get back to Azkaban, never mind any interruptions."

"Ron, he -- he betrayed my parents. I --" Harry blinked away tears. "I can't just do _nothing_."

"Do you know how to do worse to him than _them_?" Hermione asked practically. "And if you did, would you want to... to be someone who did that?" She eyed him fretfully. "Harry, are you all right? You turned so pale -- your _lips_ turned blue -- and you just started to slide down...."

"I don't -- I think I am, but... everything kind of went dark, and there was screaming... it sounded familiar, but I haven't -- I don't know when I heard it. Neither of you heard it? It was horrible."

Ron traded worried glances with Hermione. "Look, mate, I think we need to get you up to the hospital wing." He paused, then added hastily. "I believe you about the screaming, really I do, just -- you really gave us a scare."

"But we haven't visited Hagrid."

"He'd want you to go to the hospital wing after this," Hermione declared firmly.

"Look, I really feel fine --"

Ron snorted. "You're still all grey. Come on, Hermione, get his other arm."

Hermione nodded, and between them they started propelling Harry back toward the castle. 

"If he's after me for getting rid of Voldemort," Harry said after a few moments, "then if he's heard about this year, he'll probably be after Tom as well. Do you think that could have been what made him try to escape? If he got news of Tom somehow? I mean, I've been here over two years now; _I'm_ nothing new...."

"Yeah, maybe." Ron frowned. "I'll tell Ginny she ought to be careful. And to warn him if he hasn't already found out. _After_ we see if you're all right."

"I am!" He still felt cold and shaky, but he could walk; he _should_ be fine.... Ron and Hermione, however, were clearly having none of this. "All right, all right, I'm coming. But yes... warn them to look out...."

They arrived at the hospital wing shortly, where Madam Pomfrey took one look at Harry and sighed. "Dementor, I suppose? I've had two other close brushes already. Sit over there, dears -- I suppose you two were with him? You should all have some chocolate." She cut generous chunks for each of them and shooed them onto a couch. "Sit there and eat your chocolate, and once it's all gone I'll have another look. Dementors in a school, honestly...." She bustled off into another room.

Harry leaned back on the couch, feeling more drained than he wanted to admit, and nibbled at the chocolate. He wasn't sure what good it was supposed to do, but there didn't seem any point in turning it down... and it turned out, to his surprise, to banish the icy feeling very nicely. 

It just didn't get rid of the memory of the screaming.

*****

Even though he was at their regular table in the library, and expecting her to show up for a study session, Tom didn't see Ginny approach at first. He was flipping through _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ halfheartedly, hoping that if Black were in _here_, and Harry finally gave in to Hermione badgering him to read the thing, Tom wouldn't have to break the news to him.

"Tom? Tom, are you --" Ginny rolled her eyes and plucked the book out of his hands. "Honestly, you're as bad as Hermione -- what are you reading, anyway?" She glanced down at the page. "Oh. Sorry."

"No, it's not -- look, sit down, I have to ask you something." He twiddled his fingers on his wand nervously. "Look, Ginny -- d'you know how much Harry knows about this Sirius Black? How much do _you_ know? Because at dinner last night, Malfoy told me some things, and I don't know if I should tell Harry."

Ginny blinked and slid into a chair. "I know... the basics, I suppose. The thirteen murders, that he was supposed to be a Death Eater.... What exactly are you not sure you should tell Harry?"

"Well -- Malfoy said Black was the one who told Voldemort where Harry's parents were. And I think if Harry knew that, he'd -- well, go after him, Black I mean. And I know he's done that before, but -- thirteen people with one curse, that's... Grindelwald stuff."

Ginny had paled at the new information about Black and flinched slightly at Voldemort's name; at the mention of Grindelwald, however, she gave Tom a rather skeptical look. "Seems a little odd to think of Grindelwald as more alarming than... well...."

"I didn't live through Voldemort," Tom pointed out. "I _did_ see the end of the Grindelwald years -- and Voldemort wasn't the first Dark Wizard to have people scared of his name." Tom smiled wryly. "_I_ wasn't ever, really. I mean, I didn't grow up in it, really." He paused. "And Professor Dumbledore wasn't, so...."

"He wouldn't be." Ginny sighed. "It's just hard to imagine... Black, though. You're right, Harry just might go -- I think it's usually because he thinks somebody _else_ is in danger, but it was his parents...." Tom was slightly alarmed when it looked as if she might cry, but then her expression suddenly sharpened. "Tom, are you absolutely sure Malfoy was telling the truth, though? I mean... it might be the sort of thing he'd just say."

"He didn't... make a production out of it, like he usually does when he's trying to get one over on somebody. Actually, what he mostly seemed to want to say was... well, that Black might also be after me."

Ginny bit her lip. "It would be the right time for him to have heard about you, wouldn't it? And you _were_ in all the papers and everything...." Her brown eyes were very wide. "If he's had the recent news, he might be as angry at you as Harry... or...." She hesitated.

"Or want to... take me away, you mean. Try to get Voldemort again out of me. I thought of that too. _I'm_ not going to go looking for him. Harry, though...."

"Is a Gryffindor with far too much motive for revenge for his friends' comfort right now?" Ginny offered a somewhat wan smile in return. "I'm not sure. It seems as if he ought to have the _right_ to know, but everyone's already looking for Black and I'd hate anything to happen...."

Tom sighed and patted her arm awkwardly. "I didn't mean to worry you more. I just... needed to ask somebody about it, and you were the person I thought of."

"No, no, that's fine. I just don't quite know either. I don't even know whether Harry's already heard." She paused. "Though I did see Hermione in here about lunchtime -- in which case she might have found it out already."

"Well... she'd know whether to tell him or not better than I would." His lips quirked in a slightly bitter smile. "I was hoping it'd be in that book, because I know she's been trying to get Harry to read it. Anything so _I_ wouldn't be the one keeping it from him. Or not. I just... didn't want it to be my decision. It's just so... it's such a big thing."

"I can check with her," Ginny offered. "I want to say he should know, myself... but I don't want anything to happen to him either."

"Thanks. I know you don't, that's the other reason I asked you." He shook his head abruptly. "Anyway, we should get to studying. Snape's having a quiz next week and I'd like to be prepared for it before the Quidditch on Saturday."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You are as bad as Hermione, that quiz is a week away --" She broke off and ducked behind one of the larger books. "But if we are going to study, we need to find somewhere else to do it. That's Briana and my other roommates who just walked in and they've been absolutely horrid ever since I started working with you. Duck down and we'll try to sneak behind the shelves."

Tom snorted and followed her. He could always ask about the roommate problem -- or problem roommates -- later.

*****


	4. Quidditch, Conspiracy, and Memories

_Disclaimer and Authors' Note: Harry Potter, the associated fictional universe, and all characters and items contained therein are intellectual property of J. K. Rowling. We are just playing and have no intention of claim or material profit. It should be noted that this story is part of the Time's Riddle series and takes place in an alternate timeline diverging after the end of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; preceding stories are "Who We Are" and "Trouble Brewing," which explain why Tom Riddle is running around Hogwarts, why he's friends with Ginny, and what happened to Voldemort. Available under http://www.thedarkarts.org/authorLinks/Persephone_Kore/ and http://www.thedarkarts.org/authorLinks/Persephone_Kore_and_Alan_Sauer/ respectively or at http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=36169_

**Worth a Thousand Words  
Time's Riddle series  
by Alan Sauer and Persephone  
Chapter 4**

Tom studiously ignored Ginny's hand as it grabbed a roasted peanut from the bag between them on the stadium step.

It was Ginny's roommates' fault, really. He'd finally gotten the story out of her after they'd managed to sneak out of the library unseen--in fact, she'd given him a theatrical re-enactment of the usual scene in her dorm room, and after twenty minutes of dramatic wailing about the _scandal_ and the _horror_ of a good Gryffindor girl hanging around with one of those despicable _Slytherins,_ never mind the one who'd grown up to be _You-Know-Who,_ he'd put his hands over his ears and agreed that something needed to be done.

Which led to the current circumlocution. Ginny was not actually sitting with Tom in the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw sections of the Quidditch stands as the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match got underway. She would be able to tell her roommates this in perfect honesty. She was sitting with her brother Percy, who was sitting with his girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw, on the edge of the Ravenclaw section. It was hardly her fault that Tom, quite coincidentally, happened to be sitting just opposite on the edge of the Slytherin section. And--since both of them were surrounded by older and bigger students--it was perfectly understandable that they'd both gotten nudged off the actual seats and into the aisle. Under the circumstances, it was a matter of Gryffindor honor for Ginny to steal Tom's peanuts, especially since with typical Slytherin greed he'd brought enough for two.

"This ought to be interesting," Tom observed as the teams lined up in the center of the field. "Diggory's been putting his team up to extra practices since the last match, and he's quite a clever Seeker. Harry's got the better broom, and I think a better eye for the Snitch, but Cedric's been playing a lot longer."

Ginny cocked an eye his way. "I thought we weren't speaking to one another. If I have to listen to Briana Moran's banshee shrieking again . . ."

"Feed her one of your brothers' toffees. I'm talking to myself, it helps me think. If it appears that my talking to myself is holding up one end of a lucid conversation with you, that just goes to show I'm insane, just like Briana always suspected."

Ginny giggled and took another peanut. "I've about had it with them anyway--and it's not like they can see us all the way over here. Not when they're staring at Cedric Diggory with their tongues hanging out."

At that, the match started. Both teams were in fine form, looping and weaving high above the pitch. Finally, Harry and Cedric both dove toward a barely-perceptible gleam of gold--Tom and Ginny both held their breaths--

And then a chill stole across the Quidditch pitch. Dark, cloaked shapes appeared as if from nowhere on the ground; pale, dead hands fluttered horribly in and out of tattered robes. The Dementors had come to the match. Still high in the air, Harry staggered and fell off his broom into the midst of them, and they converged toward his unmoving form like a spreading rot.

Before the Dementors could reach Harry, Dumbledore stood, his face thunderous, and leveled his wand at them, shouting something Tom couldn't make out. A vast silver phoenix shot out of the headmaster's wand, gleaming like a star as it spread its wings and swooped toward Harry. The Dementors broke at its approach and scattered in all directions.

Including through the packed stands. Tom and Ginny had barely enough warning to dive out of the way as one shot past them, its foul robes sweeping through the air inches from their faces . . . and as it passed, Tom was suddenly nine years old in the Underground tunnels as bomb blasts shattered the night, was standing before Hogwarts' gates feeling his life drain back into Voldemort, knowing the cackling wraith of malice was his future.

No. That was the past. The war was long over, and he had beaten Voldemort in the end. Tom shook off the memories with a snarl and looked around. Pandemonium reigned; the teachers were trying to herd panicked students back to the castle, Dumbledore and Professor Lupin were down on the Quidditch pitch seeing to Harry . . . and Ginny sat trembling and pale, her eyes fixed on something only she could see. He grabbed her by one shoulder, trying to shake her back to reality, and her eyes fixed on his face. She screamed in utter terror and fainted. Tom swore at himself--given what he'd seen, he could guess what memories she must be reliving. Stupid, stupid . . . He looked around again, desperately. Ginny's brother had his arms around the sobbing Ravenclaw girl, stroking her curly hair and whispering something into her ear--what was his name, dammit, Ginny had too many brothers--

"Hey, you--Percy!" he shouted above the crowd, and the older boy looked up. Tom pointed to Ginny, and Percy's jaw set.

"Can you get her out of here? I've got my hands full with Penelope, she keeps muttering about snakes and won't move!"

Tom eyed Ginny doubtfully--well, if she stayed passed out . . . "I'll try to get her to the hospital wing! Or to Ron or a teacher!" Percy nodded shortly and scanned the crowd, still unconsciously trying to soothe Penelope. He pointed past the distraught girl's head, indicating a bubble of calm surrounding the irrepressible Professor Flitwick.

"Try over there! I'll follow when I can!"

Tom nodded and pointed his wand at Ginny's limp form. "Mobilicorpus!" *_Now let her stay unconscious until I can get to Flitwick. Damn Sirius Black anyway._*

*****

Ginny was floating, somewhere in that uncertain region between nightmare and waking where she couldn't tell where she was and was simultaneously glad to be waking from horror and terrified because she couldn't make herself move even if she'd been able to figure out where to go.... Only, she was moving anyway.... 

...But only for a few seconds before she felt a sharp falling sensation and landed on something hard with entirely too many corners.

_Ow._

Something brushed her shoulder; Ginny opened her eyes to see a foot leaving the location and decided she needed to sit up. Doing so made her head spin, but at least she was less likely to get stepped on, and... and why was she sitting on the steps looking down on the Quidditch pitch? 

She hated not knowing how she got where she was. It was too much like last year, when.... 

"Ginny?"

She jumped. That -- no. She shut her eyes and took three very deep breaths to make herself calm down and think. _Last_ year. Not _this_ year. The diary was last year and it was gone. She was hearing Tom Riddle's (younger) voice because You-Know-Who had accidentally recreated him, and he'd joined Harry instead and replaced the evil one. She'd only thought she was with the other one because of the Dementors.

She was so cold.

Dementors. Harry had fallen off his broom. Where was Harry? Dumbledore had been going to help him, hadn't he? He'd be all right; he had to....

"_Ginny_." Tom again. He sounded worried.

He was her friend -- really, this time -- and she was almost sure, when she forced herself to think about it more carefully, that he had been trying to help when she'd fainted. She had just felt she was waking up before -- she'd felt someone shaking her and had just been remembering that she was at the Quidditch match, not in the Chamber, when she'd seen his face and....

The hot rush of embarrassment and guilt was the warmest she'd felt since the Dementor brushed past.

"I'm sorry." 

"What?" Tom sounded confused. "Er... did you hit your head?"

"I don't think so." Ginny remembered to open her eyes and looked up at him; he was a step or two down from her. "Why?"

"Because I should've said that. I shouldn't have gone and shaken you like that, after what I saw--and then I should've, I don't know, picked you up instead of using Mobilicorpus--are you _sure_ you didn't hit your head? You fell pretty hard--anyway, we need to get to Flitwick, he's closest, your brother said he'd try and find us after he got his girlfriend calmed down . . ." Tom stopped babbling. "Are you okay?"

Ginny took another deep breath. "I'm freezing and I feel like a complete idiot. And you were trying to help -- you did, except I wasn't thinking straight." She paused. "Other than that... I think so. Er... are you?" 

"Except for worrying, I think so. I'm cold too, though, I hadn't noticed." He scanned the crowd. "We're almost there. And you don't need to feel like an idiot, _I_ should've realized that's what Dementors do, I read about them once in the back of my Dark Arts book, and I should've remembered." He started to shove his way through the crowd, then reconsidered and started trying to redirect them toward Professor Flitwick. 

"We should have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you and make sure you're all right. And find out if Harry is. What was that Dumbledore did to frighten them off, I wonder?"

"I'm not sure." Ginny stood up carefully -- her legs were shaky -- and climbed a step to catch up, then lost her balance as an older Ravenclaw brushed by and had to grab Tom's arm. " -- Sorry about that -- At least, I don't know how to do it. I think it's called a Patronus, but I don't remember where I heard that.... Dad, maybe, he's had to visit Azkaban on Ministry business before." She hesitated. "What did you mean, what you saw?"

Tom slipped his shoulder under Ginny's arm to steady her. "Memories. At least, that's what the book said. Everyone feels cold and despair when Dementors come near, but if you have . . . particularly bad memories, you relive them. It's not supposed to be a common reaction--I don't think it happened to Percy, he seemed steady enough."

"So do you."

Tom shrugged, careful not to dislodge Ginny's arm. "Most of what I remembered was fifty years ago, and once I remembered that I was able to shake it off. Mostly." He smiled a little weakly. "As soon as I have the leisure to collapse, though . . ."

Ginny opened her mouth to reply and was thwarted by having a chocolate bar shoved into it by a passing, very frazzled-looking sixth-year. She coughed and grabbed it, biting off a more manageable piece before offering the other end to Tom.

Most. Except the beginning of the year, she suspected.... Still, if it was that, _he'd_ won. "Thank you for staying with me." They were within Professor Flitwick's circle of influence with the next few steps, apparently; everyone around them seemed to be a good deal calmer, and they could hear his piping voice making what must from the tone be soothing comments, though Ginny still couldn't quite make out the words through the other noise.

"What was I going to do, leave you? --Thanks." Tom took a bite of the chocolate, and felt warmth wash all the way down to his toes. He blinked. "Chocolate's never felt like _that_ before. Not that I've had much, but . . . and here I thought that was just some folk remedy the book was mentioning."

Ginny laughed a bit shakily around her own bite. Boys. Sometimes she wondered if they ever chewed food. She finally swallowed and immediately had to fight the urge to sit down; the warmth of it was very nice, but the relief made her want to curl up and go to sleep -- somehow she didn't think this was the best spot for it. "Why should that mean it doesn't work? And I don't know, I wouldn't have blamed you for leaving me to somebody else after I fainted at you. I am sorry --"

"Because it's _sweets._ I don't know. I suppose it's just magic, eh?" He flashed a grin, but then shook his head. "And I wasn't going to--I mean, Percy had his hands full with that girlfriend of his, and it's not _your_ fault anyway." He frowned. "I hope they get rid of those things after this--obviously whoever's supposed to be controlling them isn't doing any kind of job. That Fudge didn't look like much of a wizard."

"Fudge would be a lot more useful here if he _were_ sweets," Ginny muttered. Penelope... she had the uncomfortable feeling she might know what Penelope had seen. 

Tom finally managed to weave the two of them through the crowd to get within earshot of Professor Flitwick. "Professor--do you know if Madam Pomfrey's in the hospital wing, or has someone gone and gotten her? A Dementor passed right by us--we've both had chocolate, but Ginny fell while I was bringing her. Oh, and Percy Weasley said he'd be here as soon as he could, he's with Penelope Clearwater over near the Slytherin section."

"Oh dear -- Madam Pomfrey is still in the hospital wing, yes, young Potter had to be taken there, so I've been directing calmer parties to take the few others with serious reactions back there." 

Professor Flitwick hopped up another step and put his fingers under Ginny's chin to turn her face to the light and peer into her eyes, then scrutinized Tom in the same fashion and flicked his wand at both of them. Blue sparks flurried around them; Ginny felt as if she'd been dunked in warm water for a moment. "That should help a bit. Do you feel you can make it back on your own, or would you like me to find someone to send with you?"

Tom craned his neck to get a look at the path back to the castle. It was a bit crowded, but significantly calmer. "Yes, I think we'll be all right getting back. Thank you, Professor. Er--do you know if Harry's all right?"

Ginny was very glad Tom had asked, and watched nervously as Flitwick hesitated. "I am sure he will be, Mr. Riddle. He is in good hands."

Tom traded worried glances with Ginny; "will be" implied he wasn't. "We'll probably find out more when we get there. Why did they show up at the match at all? Black wasn't _here,_ was he?"

"Oh, no, no -- at least, I certainly shouldn't think so! If he had been, they should have been converging on _him_, not on Harry Potter. Unfortunately, as their food is positive emotion, it's most likely that they were so attracted by the excitement of the match as to overcome the restrictions regarding their locations...."

"Ugh. I hope Professor Dumbledore gets rid of them."

"I'm certain he'll have a great deal to say on the matter. Attacking students...." Flitwick sighed. "And yet, Sirius Black is still at large. Their presence may still be considered necessary." He nodded to them as Percy and Penelope arrived, Penelope looking both shaken and embarrassed. Ginny met her eyes for a second, blushed, and looked away. "Take care on your way back to the castle." He waved them off as he turned to the new arrivals. 

Percy mouthed "All right?" worriedly at Ginny; she managed a smile before starting toward the exit.

Tom unobtrusively got his wand out as they started back to the castle. He didn't _really_ think the Dementors would be back so soon after Dumbledore had done his... Patronus thing... but the shadows looked darker. He supposed it was just in his head, but either way he felt better having his wand out.

"Let's see," Ginny muttered. "They can't manage to keep him out of the castle, and they come to the match -- and somehow I think I'd be less upset if I thought they were really interested in Quidditch." She didn't feel as if she might fall anymore, but hadn't quite let go of Tom's arm. She didn't care what her roommates might say; it reminded her that she wasn't alone and that the dark tunnel walls that tried to close around her when she didn't breathe deeply enough _weren't real_. Or at least weren't there. And it wasn't his wand hand anyway.

She thought she remembered the Patronus was the only spell that worked on Dementors, though. 

"Couldn't manage to keep him on the bloody island, either. They seem more like weapons than guards. Grindelwald used them."

"Really? Well, I suppose they couldn't all be at Azkaban even when those haven't been sent out, could they.... Ugh, what a thought." She looked up at Hogwarts and tried to occupy her mind with guessing which windows belonged to the hospital wing.

Then she tripped over a chicken. 

She didn't _realize_ it was a chicken until it answered her gasp with an indignant cluck and pecked her leg hard. "Oh dear. What are you doing out?"

Tom snorted, then doubled over with laughter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just--a _chicken._ Of all things."

Ginny thought about this for a moment and then giggled too, just a bit, and scooped up the stray chicken. It continued to complain loudly. "I suppose we should take it back to the coop first...."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "What, before finding out if Harry's all right and if there's any long-term effects to Dementor flashbacks, you mean? Are you _sure_ you didn't hit your head?"

"It's not _that_ far."

She did _want_ to check on Harry, of course, but it wasn't as if they could do anything for him, and she really shouldn't leave the chicken out... and maybe she wasn't making a whole lot of sense, if she was feeling guilty over chickens again.

"Well, if you're sure . . . but it seemed to be doing all right before you tripped on it, is all I'm saying."

Ginny looked doubtfully at the chicken. "...Well, if there's a way for them to get out Hagrid ought to know, really. I'll hurry. You can go on if you want." 

"I really think the chicken is probably fine --" But Ginny had already hitched up her robes and started running toward the chicken coop. 

"Ginny--argh. Wait for me!" He didn't think anybody should be wandering around by themselves. And . . . well, there were still those shadows; _he_ didn't want to be wandering around by himself either. He jogged after her trying to catch up.

"Sorry...." She stopped and looked back until he came up alongside her, then hurried on. The coop appeared to be intact, aside from a small gap through which the least-plump hen had apparently squeezed. Ginny put the indignant bird back into the coop and moved a convenient rock into the opening. "There."

"Good. Now can we go inside?"

"Yes. It was just the one." Ginny had the distinct feeling that the rooster was eyeing her with suspicion; she turned away from it. "Let's."

The rest of the walk back to the castle was blessedly uneventful, and they found Madam Pomfrey presiding over a busy sickroom, older students assisting her. She bustled over and handed each of them a thick block of chocolate. "Both of you get started on those while I have a look at you. Twelve other students in here already, and this is just the first wave, I'm sure. Minister Fudge will be hearing about this; we were _assured_ those creatures would remain under strict control."

"Is Harry all right?" Ginny blurted. 

Madam Pomfrey hummed under her breath as she inspected both of them. "Harry Potter, dear? He's resting--got a nasty bump on his head, as well as a very bad reaction to those awful creatures, but he should be right as rain in a day or so. If Professor Dumbledore hadn't driven them off him, though... oh my, you've got a bit of a bump yourself, don't you?" She took a small, steaming bottle out of her robe pocket. "Drink that with your chocolate, please; I'll check on you again in a moment, when I've attended to some others."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry would be all right. That was good. Relieved, she looked at the bottle -- maybe she _had_ hit her head, then. Ginny sniffed at the steam, then took a bite of chocolate and set the rest on her lap before unstoppering the bottle and drinking the contents quickly. The steam still pricked sharply up the back of her throat, making her cough. 

Tom, meanwhile, not requiring further attention, had spotted Hermione hovering over what he assumed was Harry's bed. "Have you seen Ron?" he asked her. "I wanted to make sure he knew Ginny got back here safe. She reacted... awfully badly to those Dementors."

"Oh, no, she would, wouldn't she.... I think he went to look for her. He said something about her sitting with Percy...." 

"That was -- well, she was sitting with me really, but said she was sitting with Percy to throw off her roommates. She says they've been pretty awful. We were in the aisle, and a Dementor shot right past us, and then--well, it would've been better probably if I hadn't been the first thing she saw when she snapped out of it. Madam Pomfrey said Harry reacted too, and that's why he fell off his broom?"

Hermione nodded grimly. "He got too close to them once before, when they first got here," she said in a hushed voice, "and...." She pressed her lips together. "Well, nobody reacted _well_, obviously, but it seemed to be worse for him."

Tom nodded. "It would be. Have you read anything about them yet? I was going to go to the library tonight -- I mean, if both Harry and Ginny are going to go to bits every time one comes near, I want to see if there's anything I can do that'd help. With both of us working on it, though -- well, if there's anything to find, we'd find it."

She looked startled. "I've been looking, but I haven't found anything very helpful yet -- there's the Patronus charm, but I'm hoping there are more detailed instructions on how to perform it somewhere. I didn't think to ask you to help; I probably should have...."

"Ginny mentioned that -- was that what Dumbledore used? I looked them up once in my Dark Arts textbook first year, but as it was a first-year textbook it just advised 'Run.' That can't be the only thing, though, I mean, I don't see Fudge being up to one and he brought them here somehow."

"I haven't found out how to do anything but drive them off," she whispered. "There must be some way to order them about, though; the Ministry does it all the time, don't they?" There was a commotion at the door as Ron, looking very distressed, dashed in, spotted Ginny, and descended on her like a concerned fireball.

"Not very well, apparently, but --" He looked up at Ron's entrance. "Oh, good. Not the day for wandering around on one's own, this."

Hermione sighed. "Is it ever?" She eyed Ron, then looked down and stared at Harry's pale face for a moment, then dragged her eyes up to look at Tom again. "You look exhausted."

Tom shrugged. "I'm all right, really. Was able to shake off the Dementors... reasonably quickly, and then I had to get Ginny someplace safe. I'll be glad of my bed tonight, but nothing serious."

Hermione looked a bit dubious, though Tom didn't think he could possibly look more haggard than she did. "All right. If you do make it to the library after dinner, though, I should be there."

He nodded. "See you there, then."

*****

Dinner that night was more subdued than Tom could remember ever having seen it; even Malfoy was eating silently. Professor Dumbledore got up midway to announce that a team of Aurors was to be sent up to keep the Dementors under twenty-four hour supervision, but he didn't seem happy about what was obviously a stop-gap measure, and as soon as Tom finished eating he made his way to the library. He sometimes thought the Hogwarts library must contain every book on magic ever written; _surely_ there was something about warding off Dementors.

*****


	5. Library

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling, and we intend no undue claim and no material profit._

**Worth a Thousand Words  
by Alan Sauer and Persephone  
Chapter 5**

Weekends were wonderful. They gave her time to make sure she had studied enough for all her classes without (usually) being tempted to steal an extra hour with her Time-Turner to finish everything. Hermione touched the chain at her throat and turned a page in yet another book. She was so tired -- she wasn't even sure she'd have noticed the extra weariness from the Dementors if she hadn't read about it. 

The cold, sick feeling in her stomach was harder to miss, though, and while the chocolate had driven away the direct effects, she still felt it in the nagging worry that she wasn't going to be able to do enough.... 

Hermione caught herself staring at the slim volumes of student photographic records. There were pictures in the main student records, along with the biographical information about their time at Hogwarts and notes on what they'd done afterwards, so she'd been a little surprised to find that there was a quick reference for what all the students in a given year looked like. The introductory passage in the oldest one suggested that the Headmaster at the time had been as fascinated with photography as... as Colin Creevey. 

She stood up slowly, leaving the stacks of works on Dark creatures, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Azkaban's history on a table and going to pull out a volume from the 1970s. Gryffindor. B. Wrong year. She should remember the year. 

The next one was correct, and Sirius Black -- looking far different indeed from the long-haired apparition with the empty eyes who'd appeared in the Daily Prophet -- beamed up at her from the page. 

She stared down at him accusingly. He looked puzzled. 

She shut the book as fast as she could without making a noise and shoved it back onto the shelf.

Whirling back to the table brought her face-to-face with Tom Riddle. 

"I think you've got most of the relevant books," he said by way of greeting, "but I think I found a few more. Pity we can't get into the Restricted Section, I'm sure there's plenty there."

"Probably." She looked wistfully in the direction of the front desk. "If we don't find enough here, I'm going to ask Professor Lupin if he'll give me a note -- and if he won't, I might ask Madam Pince anyway. The worst she can do is remind me I have to have a note... I think."

"Just as long as... well, I'd rather Ginny and Harry not find out about this.... Ginny already has all those brothers being protective. I don't want her to think I don't think she can take care of herself, it's just... maybe this time she can't."

Hermione nodded. "Well, I won't tell them. I wasn't going to mention I was looking until I'd found something that would do some good, at least. I won't mention it to her."

"Thanks. _Have_ you found anything? I wish I'd been able to hear the incantation Professor Dumbledore used, but I was all the way across the pitch. Now _that_ was impressive."

"_That_ I found -- in a seventh-year Defense textbook that apparently hasn't been used for forty years, but I think that's because the list of countercurses was out of date and they stopped putting in new editions. I'm sure it's in several of the newer ones as well, at least I should hope so, but perhaps they don't expect anyone to need it who isn't working with --" 

Hermione cut herself off mid-sentence. Too much. "Well, it still ought to be right. '_Expecto Patronum._' The book said it's beyond most wizards even when they finish their regular training, but I haven't found anything on how they control them at Azkaban and we really should be able to manage it, I'd hope...."

"_Expecto Patronum_," Tom said thoughtfully. "That's all? Does it need an unusual amount of power behind it, or...? If it's beyond our capacity right now there's not much we can do." He flipped through the old textbook. "Oh, I remember this one. Didn't get that far in the last time I looked at it... ah, here. 'Concentrate on a happy memory.' With Dementors around? No wonder it's advanced. That'd take serious control."

"Yes. That's probably the hardest part, I should think. I believe it also does take a good deal more power than most charms. It's still worth trying, though, isn't it?" The amount of power required for a spell had never seemed to be the problem, though Hermione was sure that could very well be because none of the coursework required the high-energy ones. Obviously it mattered sometimes. 

"I'll try just about anything," Tom said. "We should keep looking for alternatives, though, just in case."

"I am," said Hermione. "Thus _Azkaban: A History_ -- which is much less interesting reading than _Hogwarts: A History_ no matter what anybody says -- _Misuse of Magic and the Consequences Thereof_, _Administrative Proceedings of the Prison System_, _The Confinement of Magic_, and _The Draining of Souls_. I'm not at all sure that last one _shouldn't_ be in the restricted section, either."

"_Hogwarts: A History_ really is fascinating. They might want to come up with a more exciting title for a revised edition, though; it doesn't seem to get checked out very often. Or didn't, anyway. I've got _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,_ don't know how much help it'll be but I'd already checked it out trying to catch up on history, and _The Shadow and the Grave,_ which is another one that should probably be restricted, but lucky us."

"I thought that last one was about attempts to become immortal."

"That's the first volume. The second describes various kinds of creatures that aren't dead but should be, or are dead but haven't noticed, or aren't either. Some of them are the results of the processes alluded to in the first volume, I think."

Hermione firmly bit her tongue before she could ask whether Voldemort was in either one. She was occasionally capable of tact, although it was harder to remember when she would have preferred to be asleep. "I should have paid more attention. I thought there were two copies; I suppose it meant two volumes."

"The spines were pretty dusty." Tom didn't mention what the last name on the index cards inside the books had been, although his own handwriting had been yet another nasty shock on a day already full of them.

She nodded. "Well... the most mention of Dementors in _Hogwarts: A History_ is actually that Slytherin was good at dealing with them, though there doesn't seem to be any detail on _how_ he dealt with them."

"Well, that's something, anyway." Although he wasn't sure what. He flipped through _The Shadow and the Grave,_ wishing Morton Umbre had thought to include an index. "This mentions 'methods of control known to the elect,' but... either the author wasn't one of the elect, or was and assumed either the reader already knew or didn't need to."

Hermione glanced over at Tom uncomfortably and picked up _The Confinement of Magic_ again. "It might be classified, I suppose, which would be inconvenient." She tried not to yawn. "I'm trying the ones that look, er, least nightmarish to begin with."

Tom nodded. "I'll start at the other end, then, so we don't overlap right away." He eyed her curiously. "Are you all right? You look exhausted. How close did they get to you?"

"Oh -- I'm fine. Not terribly close at all. I've just been very busy this week." And every other week. 

"Mm. Ginny said you seemed to be taking a lot of classes." He quirked an eyebrow. "Trying to break anyone's exam records, by any chance?"

Hermione's first thought was that she had to be more careful. Her second was the impulse for an indignant denial... but then, she couldn't truthfully say it hadn't crossed her mind, so she smiled a bit sheepishly. "There are just so many interesting things to study -- but now that you mention it...."

"That's okay, I am too. I figure I ought to be able to do better at classes than Voldemort if I'm not doing all that Dark Magic on the side."

"Or looking for secret chambers behind the plumbing in the girls' toilets?"

"Is that where it is? How embarrassing. I wonder if it's the same one I went into accidentally when I got lost my first week."

"I don't know. I imagine they could have changed things around since then." 

Hermione felt more alert suddenly as she found a list of the instructions and restrictions placed on the Dementors of Azkaban -- but on turning to the appropriate page, she found that while the information would probably be very useful if she ever wanted to walk _through_ Azkaban without being Kissed or otherwise getting too close to its guards, there were no details on the particular spells.

Tom turned a page and made a face. "Ugh. Well, there's not much in here on controlling them, but if you're curious about where they come from...."

Hermione looked up at him dubiously, "Should I be?" Curiosity won out, though. "It might have _some_ clue in it...."

"Well, some arise spontaneously from places where there was a great deal of suffering and despair -- actually as spirits, and then they possess the nearest dead body. If you're Kissed by one, though, after what's left of you dies it becomes one as well."

Hermione remembered the dark blots converging on Harry and shuddered. "That's not very promising," she said in a nearly normal tone of voice. "It sounds as if the natural spells to control them would probably be necromantic."

"And therefore probably Dark, which is something I'd... really rather avoid. Still, the Patronus Charm isn't, so maybe there's something else along those lines. I wonder if that was an offshoot of something else, or... the end product of a line of research that included other spells -- related ones might be useful."

"That would be good -- I don't recall anything like the Patronus, but I do know there are spells to get rid of zombies, vampires -- I think there's a way to banish ghosts, though I shouldn't think that would work on a creature without a soul, would you? Then again, if they eat them...." She tried to imagine an abruptly starved Dementor and failed utterly.

"If we banish the souls it's already eaten, that'd probably make it hungrier, and we want to make it go away, not hang around thinking we're a buffet." He picked up the old Defense textbook again. "This doesn't really say much about what a Patronus _is._ If it's some kind of spirit, maybe there's a related one that's easier to call... and probably less effective, but even if it only buys time to run...."

Hermione set _Confinement_ down and shut her eyes for a moment. Glowing silver, happy memory.... "It reminds me a little of some descriptions of a Pensieve. Of course, I can't think of any way to use one against Dementors even if we _had_ one...."

"Unless the happy memories in the Pensieve would be like... holy water to vampires, or something. But Pensieves are a bit expensive to be playing around with -- or at least they were. Always thought they were interesting, though, and -- um." He bit off 'I'd wondered if there were a less expensive way to record memory.' Rather obviously he'd _found_ one in his other life, but best not to go there.

"They still are. Maybe I should look up what the liquid is...." Hermione wrote "Pensieve liquid" under "Many spells may be necromantic." Her parchment promptly blanked itself. 

Tom blinked at the parchment. "That's handy. Wish I'd had something like that my first year; I ended up keeping my notes in my head, because otherwise they'd get stolen."

"_Biberis Atramentum_, with a password if you think anyone else might try disenchanting your blank parchment," Hermione murmured. "I suppose Harry and Ron could guess I'd be interested but...." She shrugged.

Tom nodded, but when he opened his mouth to reply it turned into a cavernous yawn. "Er. Sorry. More tired than I thought. When would be convenient for you to meet in an empty classroom and see if we can get the Patronus to work?"

Hermione thought fleetingly about early tomorrow morning and discarded the idea at once. She wasn't at all sure she could wake up "early," and that wouldn't do at all. "After breakfast tomorrow, maybe?"

"I've got Quidditch practice tomorrow morning, but I'll have an hour or so before that should work." He thought for a moment. "Do you know the room two doors down from that squeaky suit of armor on the second floor? It was the Defense classroom when I started, but nobody seems to use it now -- I was late for my first lesson this year because I went there by mistake. We could use that."

"It does sound appropriate. Was Professor Lupin very annoyed?"

"No, actually -- I thought he would be, but apparently they moved the classroom when he was at school. Kind of an odd moment there, though."

Hermione put her chin on her hand and stared down at the book again. "I found a picture of Sirius Black from when he was in school. Every now and then I realize I'm still not completely used to wizarding pictures. He looked offended."

"It's hard to imagine anyone like that was ever a kid at school. It seems like they should just appear fully-grown somewhere." He chuckled dryly. "And don't think I'm unaware of the irony there."

And a picture from Tom's first year would probably look just as confused and offended if someone glared at it as the one from Black's seventh year had. That _would_ explain the reaction. "You hardly could be -- though apparently that's the impression he wanted to give, come to think of it."

"A successful impression, going by _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._ And from what he said... that first night, it rather sounds mostly like he was ashamed of -- well, me. And I suppose it's easier to be terrifying the less people actually know about you."

"Possibly." She turned the page and glanced up. "You don't seem like anything to be ashamed of to me. Mind, I'd imagine a Dark wizard would have a different idea of that."

"Oh, I've gone to great lengths to continue to be something Voldemort would be ashamed of," Tom said, but sighed. "It seemed like a much safer idea when his right-hand man wasn't wandering about."

"No doubt." Hermione laughed suddenly, drawing a have-you-lost-your-mind look from Tom. "I just thought -- if Ginny does happen to get upset about your researching Dementors, ask her why she's been reading up on hexes." 

"Ginny's been researching hexes? Was this before or after the chameleons?"

She locked eyes with him. "Ron and I had mentioned if Black came after Harry and was paying attention to him, we'd try to attack from the side if we had the chance. She started this after the first rumor we heard about how Black might be looking for you to remake Voldemort." 

"Ah." He smiled a bit self-consciously. "Well... that's good to know."

"She's experimenting with the possibility of conjuring a Ton-Tongue Toffee into someone's mouth. On the theory that this would make it very hard to cast spells."

"Undoubtedly. She might use a variant of 'Waddiwasi,' or at least use that as a place to start." He chuckled. "It would also be useful in case of, ah, 'banshee shrieking,' I believe is how she put it."

"As I'm fairly sure I'd have noticed if there were a banshee next door -- what?"

"One _is._ Or the next best thing, anyway, according to Ginny. Her roommate, erm, Briana Moran? The blonde who only seems to shut up in Potions, and then only when Snape's glaring at her."

Hermione made a note to have words with Briana. Gryffindor lost enough points in Potions without actively trying. "I haven't talked to her that much."

"According to Ginny she's not best pleased one of her roommates insists on being seen in public to be on friendly terms with a Slytherin. We're all vile, you see."

Hermione refrained from observing that she would probably have agreed with this last year, at least while conscious. "...Not a terribly unusual opinion, I'm afraid."

Tom snorted. "Well, it's not _completely_ inaccurate; certainly there are more than a few fairly despicable Slytherins. But you don't see me going around calling all Gryffindors impulsive idiots, do you?"

"Well, not that I've heard, and I'm sure Ginny would have lost her temper with you by now." She smiled wryly. "I haven't always been very polite about your House, I'm afraid, but I do know better now. And for all some people say about which ones go bad...." She sighed. "Black was in Gryffindor." 

"Huh. That I hadn't heard."

"I looked him up. The articles now keep saying how he killed thirteen people with a single curse. What they don't mention is that he was the one Harry's parents trusted to hide them."

"The articles may not mention it, but Malfoy knew. Couldn't wait to tell us all about it." Tom paused. "Does Harry know? I don't know if I should tell him, it seems like he'd... do something rash."

Hermione winced. "He knows. I told him."

Tom nodded, his face stony. "I hope they catch him soon. Even if it is Dementors. They must have loved him like a brother, to trust him that much, and he just threw them away."

"I can't even imagine...." Hermione sighed. "I hope they catch him before he finds Harry... or you... or Harry finds _him_."

"I can." Tom frowned. "Anyway, tomorrow after breakfast, then? We should probably each of us take some time tonight to think of happy memories to use, but I think we've about exhausted the library for now."

Hermione stifled a yawn and nodded, beginning to sort the books back into order. "I'll see you then. I think I have a few ideas...."

"Right." Tom paused in the middle of gathering his share of the books. "You sure you don't want to sleep in? I've got free time after Quidditch practice as well."

"After breakfast is just fine," Hermione said firmly. She couldn't go having a lie-in; she still had other work to do. "I'll just be going to bed a little early, tonight."

"All right. Just remember, you'll never beat any exam records if you're too tired to hold the quill." He grinned and walked over to Madam Pince's desk to check out.

"Hmph," Hermione said softly to the books before making her own way to the front desk. She did hope he was only teasing and didn't really suspect. Had Tom Riddle ever had a Time Turner? Not his first year, of course, but... later? Perhaps he knew about them, though most people didn't.

But that wasn't the important thing, really. 

The important thing was to be able to do something about the Dementors.


	6. Discoveries

_Disclaimer and Authors' Note: Harry Potter, the associated fictional universe, and all characters and items contained therein are intellectual property of J. K. Rowling. We are just playing and have no intention of claim or material profit. It should be noted that this story takes place in an alternate timeline diverging after the end of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; preceding stories are "Who We Are" and "Trouble Brewing," which explain why Tom Riddle is running around Hogwarts, why he's friends with Ginny, and what happened to Voldemort. Available under and respectively or at ._

****

Worth a Thousand Words  
by Alan Sauer   
and Persephone Kore  
Chapter 6

By their third anti-Dementor meeting, Tom and Hermione both suspected that they were doing something wrong. Neither one was accustomed to taking as many as three tries to get a new spell right -- much less three days, even if this one _was_ quite advanced. 

On the other hand, neither of them was lacking in either determination or obstinacy, so there were no plans to give up in the near future.

"Your turn again, Tom." Hermione was frowning at one of their books as if hoping that sufficient staring would prompt it to give further instructions. (cont.)

Tom nodded and readied his wand. "_Expecto patro--_"

Ron put his head into the classroom. "What on Earth are --"

"_--Num!_" Tom finished on something of a half-yelp, and his wand spat silver mist that dissipated like smoke. 

"Oh." Ron blinked. "Why'm I not surprised you two would be at the Patronus Charm? And why," he added, turning severely to Hermione, "did I find out about it by _accident_?"

"We didn't want you to worry, and you know you would," Hermione said a bit sharply. "And Harry's not to know. He's got quite enough on his plate already this year."

"Not that we're having much success," Tom added, eyeing the end of his wand sourly. "It's supposed to have a definite shape, according to the book, but that bit of mist's the best either of us have been able to do."

"It's also supposed to be really hard," Ron observed, sliding uninvited into a seat. "Nobody studies it in school, and most people don't learn it at all unless they've got reason to expect to deal with Dementors. So, of course, this all makes perfect sense. Oh, and mist's better than nothing."

"Professor Dumbledore didn't get mist," Tom grumbled. "Not that I'm hoping for results like that, but, I dunno, I don't think two seconds of mist is going to impress a Dementor much."

"Probably not," Ron agreed entirely too readily. "And of course the Headmaster didn't get mist, he's _Dumbledore_. You're... twelve."

"Almost thirteen. And that's only subjectively. According to my birth certificate I'm nearly sixty-seven."

"Subjectively is all that matters for experience," Hermione said absently, "and squabbling over it won't help. _Expecto Patronum._" Nothing. She scowled at her wand.

"You didn't look like you were concentrating that time," Tom said. He turned to Ron. "Ginny said your dad's been up to Azkaban before -- oh, yeah, and we're not telling her about these experiments either, by the way -- but do you remember anything he's said about it?"

"Why not Ginny?"

"Same reason as not Harry," Tom replied promptly. "Bad reactions, enough to do already, and we'd rather know if we can _do_ it. And it would help if you could tell us anything your father said about Azkaban?"

"All right, all right. ...He wasn't ever very specific. He came back looking...." Ron frowned. "Drawn. And he felt cold when we hugged him even though I think it was a warm day." He flushed slightly. "Ginny and I were pretty young at the time; I suppose that's part of why he didn't tell us much."

Tom frowned thoughtfully. "Well, we knew about the cold already. Has he ever mentioned anything about the Patronus?"

"Vaguely. What it is. I know you're supposed to focus on a happy memory -- but I'd think that's in the books."

"It is. And that might be part of the problem -- does it have to be _particularly_ happy, or just, you know, happy? I'm not exactly spoiled for choice."

"The happier the better, I think. I'd imagine most people would pick the best ones, anyway. Easier to think of."

"I'm about through the easy ones. We've been at this an hour." He slumped into a chair. 

"Think I'm starting to feel as tired as you look, Hermione. Anyone for sneaking down to the kitchens for a snack?"

"But --" Hermione began. 

There was a startled noise from the doorway; apparently this was their day to be found. "What on Earth?" Seamus Finnegan's voice said; he looked straight at Tom. "_You_ aren't Harry!"

Tom stared at him. "...Well spotted."

Seamus flushed. "Well, when you see a dark-haired boy hanging about with Ron and Hermione, the first thing you _don't_ think is 'Oh, that must be Tom bloody Riddle.' What're you doing in here, anyway?"

"We're working on a surprise for Harry -- for his birthday," Hermione said swiftly. "Don't tell him."

"His birthday's in July, isn't it?"

"I like to plan ahead."

Seamus shook his head, amused. "Only you, Hermione. Right, well -- your choice who you associate with, I suppose. I was just curious. See you two in Charms." He ducked out.

"Well," Ron said after a moment, "we'd better come up with something good for Harry's birthday."

Tom glared halfheartedly after Seamus, then blinked as the glare put his eyes in line with the clock near the door. "Oh, no, is that the time? I'm supposed to meet Ginny for a Magical Creatures tutorial, and I left my bag in my dorm -- I've got to run." With a parting wave, he fit actions to words.

*****

Later that afternoon, at the end of an extensive Care of Magical Creatures tutorial, Tom wiped his hands together, dropped the brush into the nearby bucket, and stepped back, a little warm glow of satisfaction settling in his stomach. Hippogriffs weren't that bad if you were careful and respectful, he decided. Rather like policemen, except more intimidating, really. He supposed that was mostly the talons and wicked beak. He bowed one last time, and the chocolate-colored beast inspected his handiwork on its flanks, nodded solemn acknowledgement, and proceeded regally into the paddock.

"That was good, Tom. You're getting the hang of this, I really think you are. Not nervous this time, were you?" Ginny grinned at him from her perch atop one of the fenceposts.

"No, Miss Weasley," he answered, singsong, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed. "I think I used up all my nerves on Kiffy in detention, and then the Dementors...." Ginny shivered at his mention of the sinister creatures, but Tom was struck by a sudden thought. Kiffy. Dementors. He and Hermione had gotten absolutely nowhere trying to make the Patronus Charm work -- it seemed to require actual danger to be present, and "getting caught by a professor while trying to learn magic too advanced to be part of the Hogwarts curriculum" didn't qualify. (Though being startled by Ron Weasley mid-spell had been enough for one of his best wisps yet.) But Kiffy had known about Dementors; maybe she knew some other way to drive them off, or control them, or... well, whatever it took to keep them away from Harry and Ginny. "D'you suppose Hagrid'll let me visit her, as long as we're here? I've been too busy to come down like I told her I would."

"He probably would if you asked. I can't stay, though; I promised Ron I'd keep an eye on Crookshanks while he and Hermione went down to Hogsmeade this afternoon." She rolled her eyes.

"See you later, then." He and Hermione had agreed to keep their Dementor research a secret from Harry and Ginny anyway, so as not to worry them, so this was just as well.

Hagrid was weeding his vegetable garden when Tom rounded the corner of the cabin, but straightened up almost immediately, mopping his broad forehead with a checkered handkerchief. "Done with yer practice already, are yeh? What d'yeh make of the hippogriffs, then?"

"Yes. And, um... they're very impressive. Ginny says I'm doing better."

"Couldn' hardly do worse. I'll talk t'her about yer progress tomorrow. What did yeh want, then?"

Tom gulped. "Well, I was wondering if I could visit with Kiffy for a bit, while I'm here. I told her I would."

Hagrid grunted. "So yeh did. She's kipped out by the fire, I think. I've got the weedin' ta finish, but yeh can go on in if yeh like."

"Thanks. I won't be long, I just wanted to say hello and... things." Tom turned away and quickly opened the cabin door.

Fang was, luckily, off in a corner sulking; Tom got the distinct impression that Kiffy made the big hound nervous. The sphinx herself was curled in front of a roaring fire, doodling absently with a claw in her sand table. She smiled at him and wiped it clean.

It has been a while since you were here last.

"Well, I've been really busy -- I had a practice session for Care of Magical Creatures today, though, with the hippogriffs."

Proud, they are. You seem uninjured, however; it went well?

"Very well. I groomed a few of them."

I am glad. Would you like to play riddles?

"Actually... um, I had a question. But not a riddle. Do you know about the Dementors at the school?"

I have smelled them. And Hagrid is very upset by their presence.

"Well... so are Harry and Ginny -- everybody, really, but them particularly, and Hermione and I have been trying to figure out a way to protect them, drive the Dementors off or something, and I remembered your riddle about them from last time. Do you know any way of controlling them?"

Kiffy gave him a long, considering look before dipping her claw into the sand again.

Only Dark wizards wish to control Dementors. Are you a Dark Wizard, Tom Riddle?

"No! I mean... no, I'm not."

Then do not pursue that question any further, or you might become one. I have seen Dementors frightened away by a

Kiffy paused, thinking.

A silver thing. Many shapes, but all the same presence. Do you know it?

"The Patronus Charm. I've been trying to learn it, but it's really hard."

That is the only thing I know of that might help you. I am sorry.

"That's all right." Tom sighed. "Thanks anyway."

He left the cabin shaken enough that he very nearly walked into Hagrid without seeing him, and checked himself to turn just in time, manufacturing an apologetic smile that would probably have been unconvincing had Hagrid actually been looking at him properly. That was quite disturbing, really. No one should ever be so distracted as to fail to see Hagrid. Tom hadn't thought it possible. 

He reoriented himself -- if he was that oblivious, he could have been on course to walk straight into the lake -- and headed for the castle. Hermione would probably be disappointed about this....

Hermione would probably be highly annoyed and say that even if there weren't any safe spells to control Dementors (which would reflect rather badly on the people in charge of Azkaban, at that), _wanting_ to control them should hardly be considered evil if it was to protect people. 

Tom had the uneasy feeling that rationalizing was a bad idea. Possibly this was why he was doing so in Hermione's voice, which probably didn't _really_ help that much even if it was accurate.

A pair of older wizards passed him going the other direction, and a fragment of their conversation caught his ear. "Don't fancy carting anything like _that_ lot again even if You-Know-Who really is gone for good this time." 

"Too right," his companion answered. "Least they're safe here." 

"I dunno, did you see those kids hanging around watching us bring 'em in? They say some of those Death-Eaters weren't as innocent as they made out, and their kids'd probably love to get a hand on You-Know-Who's stuff."

"Ah, those were Weasleys, you can tell by the hair. Weasleys're all right. C'mon, I'll buy you a butterbeer." And with that, they drifted back out of earshot -- but Tom froze, looking after them.

They hadn't recognized him, obviously. Not very surprising, even if the papers _had_ made something of a fuss; without any such distinctive markings as Harry's scar, a slim dark-haired boy in work robes really did not stand out remarkably at Hogwarts. Fortunately. Tom swallowed and reminded himself to start walking; standing stock-still halfway between the gamekeeper's cottage and the castle _would_ look odd.

He shouldn't be curious. Obviously the items had been Dark, from what the wizards had said. He wouldn't want them. Voldemort wouldn't have kept anything Tom might want. 

Would he? 

There was a chance he had. Sickening as it was to think of becoming... that, Voldemort _had_ been Tom once, had remembered well enough to recreate Tom far too well for his own good, and there could have been something.

Or there could not. There probably wasn't anything safe, much less anything he'd want....

But he did want to know.

The... whatever it was had probably gone straight to Professor Dumbledore, but Tom wasn't sure he could look the Headmaster in the eye and ask for things that had belonged to Voldemort. There _was_ another alternative, luckily. He didn't know Ginny's brothers very well, but he _did_ know the only ones likely to travel in multiples and know to watch out for secret deliveries were the infamous twins.

And he wouldn't put it past them to have gotten a much better look at the shipment than anyone reasonable would think possible.

Finding them, now... _that_ was going to be interesting. Perhaps he could ask Ginny... or wait for them after Gryffindor's Quidditch practice....?

He glanced up when a raindrop landed on his nose; the thick grey clouds were obviously going to spill more of them, so Tom quickened his pace toward the castle and slipped inside before it could start pouring. 

"Did you leave our sister out in the rain?" 

...Or he could run across the Weasley twins entirely at random.

"No, I stayed behind to talk to the sphinx; she had to go watch Hermione's cat." He paused. "This may sound kind of odd, but did you two get a look at some... package or something that was delivered to the school today?" Okay, so maybe that wasn't subtle. But Tom hadn't had very many possessions of his own, and had felt keenly the loss of his few treasures once he'd managed to settle in.

Both twins' eyebrows went up. "We did...."

"...But is it something you really want to know about?"

"I don't want a look at Voldemort's things because they were Voldemort's, if that's what you're asking." Ginny had told him one of the best ways to deal with the twins was to stay on the offensive. "I want to know if any of it used to be mine."

"Most of it looked pretty nasty."

"Didn't seem like anything you'd have had yet," the other added, nodding. "There were some quills that didn't look alarming, but they didn't look like anything special either."

"There was that one picture, though...."

Tom paled, ghost-white. "Picture? Of who?"

The twins regarded him with what looked like alarm. "How should we know?" one asked reasonably. "Don't faint."

"I'm not going to faint," he snapped. "What did it _look_ like?"

"A woman," the other offered with a shrug. "Dark hair, fair skin -- didn't really get a good look. It did look quite old -- a bit knocked about on the edges." His eyes narrowed a bit at Tom, head tilting. "Who d'you think it was? Too old to be a girlfriend... your mum?"

Tom swayed slightly. It couldn't be... could it? Would Voldemort have kept it? He stared blankly at the twins for a moment, then turned and sped off toward Dumbledore's office at not quite a run.

*****


	7. Tainted

_Disclaimer and Authors' Note: Harry Potter, the associated fictional universe, and all characters and items contained therein are intellectual property of J. K. Rowling. We are just playing and have no intention of claim or material profit. It should be noted that this story takes place in an alternate timeline diverging after the end of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; preceding stories are "Who We Are" and "Trouble Brewing," which explain why Tom Riddle is running around Hogwarts, why he's friends with Ginny, and what happened to Voldemort. Available under and respectively or at ._

****

Worth a Thousand Words  
by Alan Sauer   
and Persephone Kore  
Chapter 7

"Sir," Tom began, and discovered that any coherent method of making his request had suddenly fled his mind. Much good being let in on the results of the Weasley twins' eavesdropping did him if he couldn't even bring himself to mention the items from Voldemort's years at Hogwarts that had been confiscated. 

It wasn't that he wanted any of the Dark Arts paraphernalia. But it wasn't as if he'd had that many pictures of his mother... surely _it_ was safe? 

Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully. "You've learned of the incident in Knockturn Alley, then."

Well, that simplified things. Sort of. Omniscient headmasters, Tom thought a bit wildly. "I... yes. I heard there was... a photo among the items." 

"Those items had been used for Voldemort's practice in the Dark Arts, Tom." 

He swallowed. "I know. I don't want those. But I don't remember having any pictures except of my mother...." 

"The picture of your mother was tainted as well," Dumbledore told him, very gently. "I did consider that it would be of value to you. Unfortunately, it could not be cleansed without destroying it." 

Tom paled drastically enough that Dumbledore put out a hand, honestly thinking the boy might faint. Tom took a step back instead, though, and walked away, the thought that it was both rude and unwise to dodge and leave the headmaster without speaking pounding against his skull ... but having no effect whatsoever on his feet.

He passed people in the halls without really noticing who they were or even in most cases that they were there. Harry turned in bewilderment when he was literally brushed by with no acknowledgement of his greeting. "What on earth...." 

"That was rude," Ron observed. "And especially for a Slytherin, he usually isn't." 

"He's going the wrong way for the library...." 

This last observation was proven still more clearly when Ginny turned up a few minutes later, carrying three books on potions, to ask whether anyone had seen him.

Upon consultation, Fred said that he and George had told Tom about some of You-Know-Who's items from a long time back having been seized in Knockturn Alley ("I just bet Malfoy was getting rid of them, but STILL no proof...."). Notebooks sounded potentially alarming but not likely to get that sort of distracted reaction. A scarf, similar. A collection of orange seeds, just a bit strange. A photo, and when they'd mentioned that, Tom had gone white. 

Tom had also mentioned needing to speak to Dumbledore before their meeting, and so Harry and some of the others concluded they would ask the Headmaster, while Ginny went on a Riddle-hunt. 

Searching the library and assorted classrooms garnered only puzzled looks from a number of professors and a glower from Snape that sent Ginny scurrying for cover. Although, on reflection, he really shouldn't be THAT annoyed. It was his class she was carrying books for! 

On further reflection, she decided that the books could stay behind and be retrieved later instead of weighing her down. She dropped them off on her bed and stopped to think. Common areas seemed to be out, unless Tom was moving around and she'd just missed him. She should have asked her brothers or Harry how they found people.... 

Not indoors, she decided, and didn't like the conclusion. Theoretically he could be in the Slytherin dorm, but that seemed unlikely -- too populated -- if he wasn't in the mood for company. 

The Dementors were supposed to stay at the borders of the grounds. She still had to take a very deep breath before she slipped outside. 

Hagrid's hut and the surrounding pens -- nothing. He wasn't likely to be _inside_, not when Hagrid himself was. She glanced nervously at a shadow, feeling renewed guilt with the memory that Hagrid had been to Azkaban for something she'd been doing....

Maybe the Quidditch field. Or a tree. 

Ginny stopped to peer up into the branches of several trees as she passed them on the way to the Quidditch field. If no one was practicing, maybe Tom would have gone there to fly... although it would've been nice if he had mentioned this change in plans. 

There was nobody in the air over the field. There was, however, a lone figure standing at the very edge of it. 

Ginny walked deliberately a little ways downfield, thinking perhaps she should avoid sneaking up behind him the way she had in Care of Magical Creatures, then made her way past the stands and onto the sidelines of the field. 

There were no brooms in evidence, which suggested fairly strongly that flight -- at least in the literal sense -- had not been uppermost on Tom's mind. 

He didn't look up at her as she drew nearer. It seemed to have rained at some point while they were in class; there was still cloud cover, and the grass was wet. Ginny was glad she'd thought to grab her cloak. Tom apparently hadn't, although he didn't appear to have noticed. 

She stopped next to him, still having received no sign of notice. "Missed you at the library," she finally said quietly. 

"Sorry," Tom said without looking up. "Got some bad news, thought I'd take a walk."

She shrugged. "It's all right, I just wondered where you were. I found my brothers and Harry; they said they'd seen you leave. What happened?" She paused. No reply. "Or I can go, if you'd rather be by yourself."

"No, it's -- it's all right." His eyes flickered up, then back down at the ground. "I went to talk to Professor Dumbledore about... Voldemort's things. I thought... but it all had to be destroyed."

Ginny shivered a little, and not really from the chill in the air. She mostly associated Tom's handwriting with Potions recipes now. Mostly. It wasn't that unreasonable, she reminded herself. If the collection was from early enough, the things would have been his once; there could have been something he'd miss. Certainly he hadn't gotten to bring much with him, not as a memory. "What did you want from them?" 

She couldn't keep quite all the uneasiness out of her voice. It wasn't that she thought he had nefarious motives; it was just that talking about -- about You-Know-Who's school... artifacts still made her nervous.

Tom toed the ground. "Well... I should've known better. It was stupid to think -- but, well, the twins said there was a picture. Of my mother. And I... well, it couldn't be -- Dumbledore said, it had been used for something, and couldn't be -- made safe, without destroying it."

The picture. He'd had a picture of his mother. And then... it had been tainted beyond recovery. Thinking he might be able to get it back and then learning that must have been worse even than thinking it had been lost.... "Oh, Tom. I'm so sorry." 

Tom raised haunted eyes to meet Ginny's sympathetic ones. "What could he have needed -- how could he have --" Tom's knees buckled, and he sat down hard on the turf. "I just don't understand."

"I don't either." Ginny crouched beside him, catching up her cloak before too much of it could trail in the wet grass and throwing part of it over his shoulders. She settled her arm there and left it... he felt cold. What in the Dark Arts would require a picture of your mother? 

The question brought her own mother to mind and turned her stomach at the same time. 

"I never knew her, you know. She died... when I was born. And then, in the orphanage, sometimes I'd wonder about her."

Ginny nodded, thinking about when he'd said it must be nice to have brothers to stick up for you.... She could barely imagine not being surrounded by family. It had been bizarre when Ron left, and still, she'd had her parents there.... "It must've been hard...." 

"Yeah."

She gave up and knelt on the grass; the crouching was awkward, and starting to make her toes go numb. The sort of half-hug was awkward enough in itself -- Tom was not accustomed to being cuddly, and she'd seen him look at her and her brothers a bit oddly on occasions when one or another of them scooped her up, to tease her or just to hug or move her. She wasn't even quite sure if he'd registered the cloak. 

But... she'd have wanted a hug, if it had been her. She thought. "I'm sorry," she said again. 

Tom laughed sharply. "You didn't do anything." He blinked, noticing the cloak. "Oh. Thanks. Chillier out here than I thought."

"You weren't paying much attention. I can see why," Ginny murmured. "And I'm still sorry about... all of it." 

"Well... thanks, then." Tom shivered, and not from the cold. "I can't stop thinking about... what he might have needed it for."

"I don't know." _I don't think I want to know._

"I... don't think I'll be able to study Potions today. Sorry. I think I just, I need some time." Tom's shoulders shook soundlessly, but his voice remained steady. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

She suspected that this translated to 'Go away before I start crying.' Well... he wasn't likely to be attracting creatures that fed on joy.... "Don't worry about Potions." Ginny hesitated, then hugged him quickly and took off her cloak, dropping it on him in case he was planning to stay out there. She wouldn't be too cold if she walked quickly. "I'll see you, then." 

*****


	8. Mother's Smile

__

Disclaimer and Authors' Note: Harry Potter, the associated fictional universe, and all characters and items contained therein are intellectual property of J. K. Rowling. We are just playing and have no intention of claim or material profit. It should be noted that this story takes place in an alternate timeline diverging after the end of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets; preceding stories are "Who We Are" and "Trouble Brewing," which explain why Tom Riddle is running around Hogwarts, why he's friends with Ginny, and what happened to Voldemort.

**Worth a Thousand Words  
by Alan Sauer   
and Persephone Kore  
Chapter 8**

Dumbledore had explained the cause of Tom's abrupt departure, and Harry had been driving everyone crazy by pacing ever since they'd returned to the common room. 

"Can't you sit down for a few minutes?" Hermione asked. 

Harry perched on the arm of a chair, his tapping foot completely out of sync with the fingers he began to drum on the table. "I just wish I knew where he was, Hermione. I know exactly what he must feel like."

"Didn't Ginny go looking for him?" 

"Yes, I think so -- maybe we should go looking for her?"

"Maybe we should," Ron began, then blinked as his sister -- sans cloak and with the front of her robe wet up to the knees -- stepped into the room. "Or maybe not."

Harry sat bolt upright and accidentally slid off the arm of the chair with a thud. "Ginny! Did you find him? Is he all right? Does he need help, or...?"

"Yes, and... I don't know." Ginny sighed and curled up in a chair close to the fire. "He's upset... I can see why... I don't think he wanted me to stay any longer, though, so I left."

Harry flopped back into his chair. "Yeah, I can just bet. Is there something we could do to cheer him up? Maybe... find another picture, like Hagrid did for me?"

"Where?" Ginny asked practically. "Hagrid got them from friends of your parents, didn't he?"

"Yes... oh, I see what you mean, we don't even know her name, much less whether any of her friends are still alive."

"Wizards can live a long time," Hermione said thoughtfully, closing her book, "and we could ask someone -- maybe Dumbledore knows her name, for instance -- but it could take a while to do the research." She paused. "Wait! They make a book of photos of all the seventh-years and various events each year -- there's a whole collection in the library, over in a corner where nobody ever seems to go." She stopped rather suddenly, then went on quickly, "I looked it up in _Hogwarts: A History_; Hogwarts instituted annual photographic records shortly after the advent of photography. You can see the developments in the early ones... it's very interesting to compare; wizards changed them to color almost immediately...."

Harry snapped his fingers; Hermione stopped again. "That's right, Dumbledore was a professor here when Tom was first here, I saw -- " He coughed, and flickered a glance at Ginny. "Well, he'd probably know who she was, is the thing. I could go ask, and then we could look at those."

"You do that. And I'll look up how to make copies quickly... we'll need some paper or parchment that will take the picture...." Hermione seemed to have perked up at the prospect of more research.

"Colin could help," Ginny suggested. She gave Harry an odd look when he flinched slightly. "He's good with pictures. He might already know about the copying."

"Yes, he certainly takes enough of them. That's a good idea, though."

"Ginny, just where did you find him?" Ron broke in, eyeing her robes. "Wading?"

"No, the Quidditch field."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "That's always a marsh when it's been damp out. No wonder he went out there to feel miserable. Well, the sooner we find that picture, the sooner we can maybe get him back inside."

"Yes, go ask Dumbledore. I know Slytherin was supposed to be from a swamp," Hermione muttered, "but that's just ridiculous." 

Harry popped out of his chair and headed for the portrait hole. "Be back soon!"

They scattered, Hermione for the library and Ginny -- with Ron in tow -- in search of Colin. They reconvened in the library, drawing odd looks from Madam Pince this close to dinner. Although that might have had something to do with Colin's collection of photographic equipment.

Harry skidded into the library, out of breath. "Okay. Dumbledore said...." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Dumbledore said her name -- maiden name, I asked -- was 'Mary Echidne,' and he didn't know exactly when she finished, but probably somewhere in the 1920's."

"Well, that makes sense," Hermione said absently, pulling out the entire stack of the 1920s and depositing them on the table before starting to flip through 1929. "I wonder if there were wizard Flappers?"

Harry slid 1920 out from under the rest. "I forgot to ask what House she was in. That probably would've been more help -- probably Slytherin, though, I'd think. Flappers?"

"She was in Slytherin," Ginny put in absently. "That's part of why he wanted to be."

"That helps." Hermione paged quickly through the E's for Slytherin, then set 1929 aside and picked up 1927, since the intervening one was in Ginny's lap. After a moment she held it up triumphantly, holding the pages open to display the likeness of a dark-haired girl with sparkling green eyes and dress robes to match. "Hah! I've found her." 

"She's pretty," Colin observed. "Wait, '27... Hold on, will you?" He stood up and scurried off to another part of the library while the rest blinked after him in surprise. He was back before they could do more than wonder, though, looking very pleased. "I'm not the first student photographer at Hogwarts, see, and they've made up albums before -- I'm going to do one, maybe two if I have enough photos. They don't cover quite all the years, though, so I didn't want to say anything ahead of time, but this one's by someone who finished in 1926 so there might be some of her." 

"That's good work, Colin." Harry came and looked over his shoulder; Colin handed him the book and busied himself with his photography equipment. 

"I brought a little book, just in case we did find more." Colin glanced surreptitiously toward the front desk and carefully poured a flask of some potion that looked like iridescent quicksilver into a shallow wooden bowl. "Hermione, could you stir this until it thins out a bit, please?" 

He and Ginny were copying over the fourth photograph from the album, which involved pressing the papers with a potion-soaked cloth (standard materials, it seemed, fortunately enough) that had to be kept very smooth -- they'd finally wrapped the cloth around a small rectangular mirror from Ginny's bag, and kept having to hush it when it complained -- when Harry snorted. "Here's one of her in Divination. I wonder if her professor was as useless as Trelawney?"

"Anyone would be hard pressed to be _worse_," Hermione grumbled into Colin's potion. "She's still predicting Harry's death every week."

"You haven't been paying enough attention in _class_, Hermione," Ron said with mock severity. "She's up to twice most weeks."

"I think she's running out of material, though," Harry added. "I've been supposed to be buried alive three times in a row now." 

"One of those was yours, though, remember?" Ron reminded him. "Mind, she might _remember_...."

"Please," Ginny muttered, "tell me that class is optional."

"Yeah, it is. Why did we sign up for it again, Ron?"

"Well, the homework's easy," Ron said thoughtfully. "Kind of cathartic, really."

"You make it all up," Hermione said fiercely, "and she praises you to the skies even when none of it comes true -- and of course I'd be horrified if it did, but if that doesn't prove it's all nonsense I don't know _what_ does!" 

"We might want to hurry up." Ginny glanced at the outermost wall unhappily, though she was at the wrong angle to see much of anything through the window. "It's getting close to dinnertime, and he's probably freezing if he hasn't decided to come in yet."

Hermione looked abashed. "Right, I'm sorry. How many pictures do we have now? I lost count."

Colin carefully peeked back at the other pages of his book. "There's regular school one... an extra for academic honors -- and we're transferring the eighth from the album; I think Harry and Ron have found a few more though, and they're not quite all the way through."

"Here's another," Ron remarked, then blinked at the picture. "Although maybe we shouldn't use it...." 

"What do you mean?" Ginny looked over at him.

"His father was a Muggle, right? This is NOT him she's kissing." 

Harry coughed. "Right, we'll just leave this one, then."

Ron gave the blond Gryffindor in the picture a last incredulous look and turned the page. "Very odd -- oh, this one's better. Although the expression reminds me of Fred."

Harry sniggered a little at the thought. "That's all right, though. We're just lucky she did enough to get into as many pictures by somebody from the year ahead as she did -- though I'm starting to think it must have been a friend of hers, some of these had to have been planned...." 

They found several more, though toward the very back of the book most of the pictures were of the photographer's own yearmates. Hermione did track down one large photo of Mary Echidne on a page that had stuck to its neighbor the first time through, where she was apparently in furious competition to complete an Arithmancy problem before the boy on the other side of the board. It was the same Gryffindor she'd been kissing in the one they'd omitted, but they decided this one was probably safe enough. 

"I think that's it," Colin said finally, fanning the last page to make sure it was dry. "Who's taking it to him?"

"Ginny knows where he is, and, well, I'd like to go too." Harry looked around at them. "We can tell him how much you all helped, but I don't think we should descend on him in a mob."

"I suppose a small horde of Gryffindors might be a bit much, yes." Hermione carefully re-shelved the books. "That last picture reminded me, too -- I need to study."

"Oh, yes," Ron said, rolling his eyes and grinning. "It has been almost forty-five minutes since the last time, hasn't it."

Hermione swatted him with _Magical Photocopying_ by Loki Twyce before they dispersed.

"Give me a few minutes?" Ginny asked. "I need to go borrow a cloak."

"You can borrow mine, if you like. I'll be all right without."

"I appreciate it... I'd feel guilty though. It's chilly out there."

"Well, we'd better hurry, then." Harry grinned. "Really, don't worry about it. I've got one of your mother's jumpers on."

Ginny blushed a little. "That's really nice of you, and we should -- he's been out there an awfully long time -- but I can get one fast." She sped up toward Gryffindor Tower, face still warm. 

There were advantages to having assorted siblings at school with you. Ron's cloak was a bit too long and had to be held out of the grass, but it was definitely warm -- despite the Dementors she couldn't help imagining into the shadows that hid her and Harry from being caught out along their way. 

She supposed if they were real the cloak wouldn't help.

Ginny thought at first that Tom had left the Quidditch field; even accounting for the shadows, she couldn't spot him at first. Then Harry pointed to a dark blob in the lower part of the stands, and they hurried down, squelching slightly. Tom was still huddled in Ginny's cloak, but had at least gotten out of the wet grass.

"Tom?" she paused beside him, then settled onto the next seat.

Tom smiled briefly at her, then glanced over at Harry as he slid into a seat on the other side of Ginny. "Brought reinforcements, eh? I think I'm... a bit better now."

"Good. Maybe we can get you to come in before you catch your death," Ginny said wryly. She raised her eyebrows at Harry. 

"Actually... we brought you something." Harry fished the book out from under his cloak -- he hadn't wanted it getting wet if it started raining again -- and handed it to Tom.

Tom took the book cautiously, looking from it, to Harry, to Ginny, then back down to the book. "What -- ?" He flipped open the cover and perused the first few photographs. A girl, then a young woman, smiling and laughing, or working in class, her eyes as familliar to Tom as... well, as his own. "I-is this... what is this?"

"A photo album. Hermione and Colin found how to copy pictures, Colin brought the stuff and found a book from when she was here made by someone who was as camera-happy as _he_ is, Harry got her name from Dumbledore, and he and Ron helped hunt through all the photos...." 

"It's your mother, Tom," Harry added, swallowing. "As many pictures as we could find."

Tom blinked and looked back down at the book so he wouldn't have to meet their eyes -- of course, that was no help, with his mother's face beaming from every page. "I -- " He choked, and hugged the book hard into his chest, tears streaming down his face. "Thank you both. And Hermione and Colin and Ron too," he said after a long moment. "I don't know how to... you didn't have to do this."

"You're our friend," Ginny said quietly.

"Hagrid gave me an album with pictures of my parents," Harry added, "at the end of my first year. I know... well... how much it can mean." 

Tom blinked, and wiped his face on the sleeve of his robe, and then looked up at them and smiled. "It means a lot. Thank you. I said that already. Um."

"You're welcome." Ginny took a moment to find one, then offered him a handkerchief. "Sorry, I should've thought of this sooner."

"I still haven't replaced mine from the chameleon," Tom said, and blew his nose. "Got dark all of a sudden, didn't it?"

"Not that suddenly. You've been out here for a while, even since I left -- I don't even know quite how long before _that_."

"I wasn't in much of a state to notice. Uh... I haven't missed dinner, have I?"

"Not yet," Harry told him. "We'd have swiped something for you if you had, though." 

Tom smiled again, then stood up and offered Ginny her cloak back. "I suppose we'd better go in, then, or I might catch my death of cold."

"I'm surprised you haven't frozen already," Ginny told him a bit disapprovingly. "And keep it, you've been out here longer and I've got Ron's."

"All Slytherins are cold-blooded, you should know that." Tom tucked the book securely in one of the larger pockets in his robe. "Whoof. I think I'm going directly to bed after dinner."

"If you're cold-blooded," Harry pointed out, "you shouldn't be able to _walk_ by now." 

"Probably a good idea, though," Ginny added. 

"Picky, picky."

They made several more steps through the soggy grass in silence -- except for a bit of squelching -- before a moonbeam sifted through the clouds. Ginny glanced at her companions and saw the silvery tear-stains on Tom's face, then thought about letting him go to the Slytherin table like that and quelled a shudder. 

Granted, he could probably be vicious if they started in on him, but she wasn't sure he was up to it... and for that matter, in the event that he was, she wasn't completely sure they'd deserve the reaction they might get. 

And he'd finally started shivering, just a bit. That might be good, though. _Not_ shivering when you were cold was bad, wasn't it? 

"We might want to stop somewhere to wash up before we go to dinner...."

Tom glanced over. "I -- I suppose that's probably a good idea. Um, where?"

"A bathroom, maybe?" she suggested drily. Quite a trick given that they were now being gently blanketed by a rather wispy fog.

"Maybe Hagrid's," Harry spoke up. "It's closer, and it's warm." 

"Well, which bathroom, I meant," Tom began jokingly, but broke off at Harry's words. "Hagrid's? Do we have to?"

"It would be quicker, and you're shivering. And there's less chance of running into people," Harry replied seriously. "Except for Hagrid, of course."

"Well... that was sort of the, you know, reason for the question. I don't think he likes me very much."

Harry hesitated. "Well, he has to get used to the fact that you're you sometime. He _has_ been letting you do the extra work for Care of Magical Creatures, after all, hasn't he?"

"It'll be okay," Ginny added. "Anyway, I think your trying to improve is winning him over, too."

"Yeah, but he looks at me like he's trying to figure me out, and... "Now that he thought about it, he was starting to sound rather silly. "He said he used to like me. I suppose... if it's closer."

"It is. And he'll be nice, you know," Harry told him. "He takes odd visits in stride. Even when somebody's vomiting green slugs."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "I'll... keep that in mind."

"Malfoy was being... Malfoy. Ron tried to curse him with a broken wand. It didn't work very well." Harry frowned. He was cold, and he hadn't been out nearly as long.... 

Ginny pounded on Hagrid's door when they reached the hut. There was promptly a thump and a bark as Fang jumped at the door. 

Tom blinked, but managed not to flinch. Part of this was from having faced stranger creatures than a large dog during his extra credit sessions; part was from being too cold to flinch. He momentarily reflected that a wet grassy field wasn't the best place to go to brood; maybe the roof would work better next time.

"Back, Fang," came the familiar command. Apparently Fang was starting to get the idea, as there were no further sounds of thumping or scuffling, and no dog appeared in the doorway when the heavy door swung open. Just Hagrid, who blinked at them. "What are yeh all doin' out here? Yeh shouldn't be -- and I thought yeh'd be on yer way to dinner. Unless yeh want ter join me, that's fine of course, but yeh still oughtn't ter be out after dark with Black an' the Dementors out!" 

Tom swayed involuntarily closer to the warmth pouring out of the open door, but let Harry or Ginny explain matters.

Fang made a whining noise from his corner. This may have been either a greeting or a complaint that he didn't want company for dinner. 

"We're all together and being careful, and we'd like to get warm, at least, if that's all right," Ginny began.

"I should think yeh do! Come in, explain afterwards." Hagrid practically scooped them into the hut; Ginny nearly fell over but caught herself, laughing a little breathlessly. The heat was almost stinging after the chill outside. 

The door closed with a decisive thud, and Hagrid, true to form, started making tea. 

Tom lowered his hood, trying to resist the impulse to shake his wet hair out like a dog. It really was much warmer in here.

It was a bit disconcerting when something large and floppy landed over his head. A little investigation proved it to be a rough towel. "Yer all wet," Hagrid remarked somewhat disapprovingly, "and some of yeh are in the wrong cloaks. What's been goin' on?" 

"Tom decided to sit out by the Quidditch field half the afternoon." Harry didn't elaborate much on why, at least to start with. "He'd... gotten some bad news."

_~As long as I've got the towel on my head, Hagrid won't be looking at me,_~ Tom thought, and began to dry his hair industriously.

Hagrid was, in fact, looking at him quite curiously, but as he couldn't see much and Tom had his eyes shut, this wasn't really accomplishing anything in particular. 

"What kind of news is worth freezin' yourself over?" Hagrid's voice was gentler than Tom would have expected; it took him a moment to realize the question was addressed to him. By that time Hagrid had apparently given up on it and decided to focus on making them all drink hot tea.

The tea was somehow more warming than Tom had any idea tea could be, and it relaxed him enough to speak. "Well... the Aurors sent Professor Dumbledore some things to take care of... some old stuff of Voldemort's." He was too tired to notice Hagrid and Ginny flinch. "And there was a picture of my mother. Only it had to be destroyed because of Dark Magic. And I was... upset. Standing in the rain seemed like a good idea at the time."

Hagrid winced midsentence but restrained himself from coming out with "Don't say the name!" "I can see that," however, was still enough of a surprise to make Tom actually look up at him. Still that slightly puzzled expression, but.... "Yeh might want ter try somethin' warmer if anythin' else comes up, though."

"I was thinking the roof. When it's not winter, anyway."

"Maybe somewhere indoors?" Ginny suggested, sounding a bit exasperated. "Or... talk to somebody." She bit her tongue. Obviously the point was not to have to talk to somebody. 

Tom patted Ginny's hand reassuringly. "I'm all right now, or mostly. You all... didn't have to do what you did."

"We wanted to," she and Harry said firmly, and at exactly the same time.

Tom buried himself in his teacup. ~_I am not going to start again. What did I ever do to deserve them?_~

"What did yeh do?" 

Harry half-shrugged. "The same thing you did for me, pretty much. Found other pictures of his mum."

Tom put down his empty cup and dared a look up at Hagrid. "Is, um. Is there someplace I can wash my face?"

"Sure, looks like yeh need to." Hagrid found him a washcloth, too. It was pink, much like the umbrella.

"Thanks."

"Yer welcome." He had started shivering earlier, and then stopped, which reassured everyone considerably. He was really starting to get warm now. The hot water helped almost as much as the tea had. 

Harry was trying to think whether there was any way to warn Hagrid of how young Tom had been when his mother died, in case Hagrid tried to ask sympathetic questions about what she had been like or something. Hagrid didn't, however, and it occurred to Harry eventually that if they'd been at Hogwarts together for not quite three years and using each other's first names, Hagrid might already know. Not necessarily, of course.

"Little Ginny's right, though, yeh know," the gamekeeper finally said. "Talkin' about it's likely to do more for yeh than standin' outside in the rain. Unless yer after catchin' cold or worse, that is."

"It did, in the event. Help more. And I didn't realize it'd be that cold." Tom wiggled his fingers, an odd expression on his face. "Pins and needles, lovely."

Ginny took the hand and wrapped it firmly around his teacup, which Hagrid refilled before draping an extra blanket over him. The damp cloaks had long since been quietly steaming beside the fireplace. It was getting a bit humid.

"Any time," she said softly. "You know that, right?"

"I suppose I do," Tom said, and smiled.

"Good." 

After deciding that none of them seemed to be in further danger of hypothermia or frostbite (and making another pot of tea anyway), Hagrid eventually asked, "Would yeh let me see the pictures?" 

"Um... all right," Tom said, bringing the book out from his inside pocket and handing it to Hagrid. "They really found a lot of pictures."

"In the library," Harry explained as Hagrid turned the pages carefully. "Her seventh-year picture, and Colin found an album a student had made with several more."

"She looks like a nice lady," Hagrid said at last. He turned another page and blinked at the group shot on the next one in surprise. "Guess she was there the same time as my dad." 

Tom didn't quite know how to react to that. Somehow he hadn't thought of Hagrid as having parents.

Harry and Ginny, rather startled, leaned over the picture. "Which one?" 

Hagrid pointed with a large finger.

Ginny sat back after a moment and filled her mouth with tea to avoid saying that she would have expected him to be taller.

Hagrid continued going through the book after a moment, then closed it respectfully and handed it back to Tom. 

Tom accepted it and put it back in his pocket. ~_I guess he is nicer than I thought he was,_~ he mused, and tried a cautious smile.

Hagrid smiled back in somewhat the same fashion, although he still looked at Tom in a way reminiscent of how Hermione looked at a particularly difficult homework problem.

A little later, Harry said apologetically, "We probably should get going in time to eat. Thank you for letting us stop here, Hagrid." 

"Um... yes, thank you. The tea was very good."

"Always glad ter see yeh," Hagrid replied warmly, shaking out the dried cloaks and feeling them for spots of damp. "Watch yeh don't dawdle on the way; it's only got colder."

Ginny's thanks included a hug, which Hagrid looked very surprised about but returned extremely gently. 

Tom chuckled slightly. "This is the second time I'm making you two late for dinner. What will people think?"

"Probably that we're up to mischief," Harry replied cheerfully. 

Then they braced themselves and made a rush out into the cold and back to the castle.

*****

Later that night, if any of Tom's roommates had been awake, they might have glimpsed a few stray flickers of light, and heard soft hissing escape from the drawn curtains of his four-poster.

"She lookss like she had lotss of fun," the boa said, eyeing one of the pictures featuring Tom's mother laughing.

"Well, there wouldn't have been very many pictures taken of her when she wasn't," Tom pointed out. But the snake was right -- even when she was quietly studying, head bent over parchment, Mary Echidne seemed nearly always to be smiling or laughing. "I like this one," he said, turning the page; the photographer had managed to catch her in the middle of hexing the Quidditch team's blackboard to run all the plays in reverse, and the photo showed her peeking over a couch, aiming her wand, and then sprinting away gleefully with the burly captain in half-outraged, half-amused pursuit.

"Heh. Trickssy. Lookss like you when she'ss grinning like that."

"Does she?" Tom grinned down at the picture, which winked conspiratorially up at him before hexing the board again. He'd spent some time with a mirror and the old picture, his first year, trying to find a resemblance, only to conclude he'd inherited most of his face from his father; having his mother's expressions, and maybe some of the character they revealed, seemed a much better legacy.

Tom closed the book gently. It was getting late, and he could always look at it again tomorrow. Or the next day. Any time he wanted, really, he could lift the covers and be able to see the person his mother had been; it was a priceless gift, and he didn't know how he could ever really thank them: Ginny and Harry, his first real friends, Hermione, Ron--even Colin, who he barely knew.

He wondered what his mother would have thought of her son being indebted to so many Gryffindors, and then smiled; she seemed to have had lots of _friends,_ and not only in her own House, and would certainly have known what Ginny had been trying to tell him, that friendship was its own answer to questions of debt.

Unlike Tom, though, his mother had _also_ found friends in Slytherin House, as he hadn't yet, and probably didn't have to hide her treasures as securely as Tom now did with her likenesses, slipping the small book into a hollow place he'd made in the headboard, then sealing it with a few charms they hadn't covered in class yet. Satisfied, he slid back under the covers.

Nearly the last thought that drifted through his mind as he drifted into sleep was that he didn't have to worry anymore that he didn't have a happy enough memory to conjure a Patronus.

The _very_ last thought was that it didn't matter; either way, he wouldn't be standing alone.

*****

_Previous stories in the series:_

"The Potent but Terrible Solution" by Alan Sauer -- not part of the AU but included in its background. What drove Albus Dumbledore to his battle with Grindelwald, and how he survived and won out against a Dark wizard who was also a true Seer....

"Who We Are" by Persephone_Kore -- the start of the AU, in which Voldemort returns to life early riding much of London's power grid and makes the mistake of creating an illusion of himself at twelve who turns out to be just real enough to listen to Harry....

"Trouble Brewing" by both of us -- in which Tom and Ginny are tormented by having to sit next to each other in Potions class until an accident with magical chameleons brings home the difference between the diary and her classmate. Which one is the corrupting influence responsible for what happens next in Potions may be open to debate.


End file.
